Rome
by Indygodusk
Summary: When the IOA task General O'Neill to find a command staff for Atlantis, he delegates the selection to SG-1. There's just one problem: they're all women. Dr. Meredith Mckay is the leading expert on Ancient technology and a genius. Being a woman is merely incidental, or at least it should be. Major John Sheppard is a disgraced pilot. When he meets Mckay again, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm excited to post this story! This is a major AU, so it is more inspired by than faithfully following canon. Mckay and Sumner are female and Sheppard and Mckay have a past. I tackle gender discrimination and sexual assault in this story, so if those are triggers be careful. The ending to Season 1 is also not my usual clear-cut Happily Ever After. I originally wrote this for a Rough Trade Challenge in Summer 2017, but it's been edited heavily since then.

Shout-out to _DivrSam _for asking me to post this story again in a comment back in Aug 2018!

* * *

_A Stargate Atlantis Fanfiction_

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Chapter 1**

* * *

"_A thousand roads lead men forever to Rome."_

– _12th-century French theologian Alain deLille_

Despite the abrupt change to his schedule, Major John Sheppard walked into the airfield's duty office with an unhurried stride. The sergeant behind the desk looked up with a toothy smile. Eagerness from Sergeant Deckard meant interrogation and gossip. Hesitating in the doorway, John gave an internal sigh.

"I knew you were lying about being content with this gig!" Leaning forward, Deckard pounded his desk, making his cup of pens tip over. He didn't seem to care, too busy cataloging John's reaction. Despite the booming voice, it was hard to hear him over the sound of planes taking off and landing on the airfield just outside. The small squat building held the duty officers who passed out flight orders to the pilots at California's Travis Air Force Base. It was almost too noisy to talk unless you shut the door.

John wished he could get away with not shutting the door.

Shrugging lazily at the bombastic greeting, John strolled inside. He'd been about to take off on a supply run in his helo when orders had changed, telling him to drop everything and report back in. Leaning against the counter, John said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sergeant. Nor do I really care. My new orders?"

Not only was his lack of curiosity true, but it also had the added benefit of irritating Deckard. In addition to being a duty sergeant, Deckard was one of the biggest gossips on base. Ever since John had been assigned here, Deckard had been picking at him, trying to dig out all his secrets and ferret out why the CO always gave Major Sheppard the crap jobs more suited for fresh-faced lieutenants and airmen on report.

Too bad for him that John wasn't the sharing type.

Deckard leaned back in his chair and scoffed. "You went from being a hotshot pilot in a war zone to making milk runs for chair jockeys stateside. You've become the potato peeler of the United States Air Force. That has to grate. No one's that chill." He watched Sheppard's face closely.

"Just call me Frosty." John dropped his paperwork into the inbox on Deckard's desk and gave the man a smirk. None of it mattered anymore. "Someone has to run cargo and passengers stateside, might as well be me. I was starting my preflight checklist when orders came down to report back here ASAP, so...?" John lifted one eyebrow.

Eyes narrowing, Deckard tapped a finger on his desk. "It's obvious you're cashing in on your connections to escape taxi duty, Sheppard. Just admit it."

When John merely blinked lazily, the Sergeant sat back with a huff and finally passed over John's new duty assignment. John reached out to take it, but Deckard wouldn't let go right away. "Your previous orders are canceled in favor of that VIP of yours. You know, the general who pulls strings for you?"

Baffled, John waited until Deckard finally let go of his orders so John could read them over. "Don't all Generals consider themselves VIPs?" John asked absently as he looked fruitlessly for a familiar name. The paperwork told him that as of fifteen minutes ago, he and his helo were indefinitely assigned to a USAF General Jonathan J. O'Neill, itinerary to be provided on a need to know basis. "Your RUMINT's off. I've never had the brass do me any special favors."

In fact, officers nowadays preferred to take the opposite approach when it came to John. Ever since his black mark in Afghanistan—when he'd gone on an unsanctioned and ultimately unsuccessful rescue op—Sheppard flew on the Air Force's sufferance, not trusted as anything more than a glorified taxi driver and delivery man. It had been that way when they'd first exiled him to Antarctica and had continued with his unexpected transfer to California and Travis AFB.

In Antarctica, the base's commanding officer must've been used to getting the screw-ups of the service, since John's arrival hadn't inspired more than a yawn from the CO. None of the interesting jobs were ever assigned his way, but it had given John time to come down from the feral edge he'd been riding ever since waking up in the desert next to his friend's cooling body. There was clarity in the cold, comfort in the numbness. He came to accept it, even like it.

It had been a valuable lesson to learn before coming to Travis AFB. The CO here had taken one look at the black mark on John's record and made it his personal duty to make John miserable. Perhaps he hoped it would make Sheppard quit since the inquiry hadn't found quite enough evidence for a discharge. The downtime was minimal and assignments either monotonous or aggravating. John only slept in his own bed on base two or three times a month.

However, his CO didn't realize that he was actually doing John a favor. The constant flying kept his mind too exhausted to obsess about the past, his time too full for socializing, and on his rare free days, he got to surf at the nearest coastline or see a matinee alone in a mostly empty theater.

"As long as I'm flying, I'm fine," Sheppard told Sgt. Deckard honestly, signing the requisite paperwork and folding and tucking his new orders into a zippered pocket on his flight suit. "Doesn't matter where."

"You're full of it, Sheppard. Besides, I saw Gen. O'Neill's name on your transfer paperwork from Antarctica. That seems like a pretty big favor to me, going from flying helicopters in frozen BFE to sunny Cali. C'mon, tell me the truth," he wheedled.

"I don't know where you get your information, but I've never even met the man," John said, though Deckard's words got his rusty wheels turning. His time on ice had been mysteriously short. When he cared enough to bother, he had wondered why he'd been moved south. "Besides, I'm not sure what use this general would have for a washed-up major besides the obvious, flying him around."

"If you say so, Sheppard. I don't know what this O'Neill does, but he's a big deal. When his name shows up, his requests always get first priority. I wonder what he's involved in?" He scratched his chin and looked at John with speculation.

"Big deal or small makes no difference to me. It all looks the same when I'm refueling my bird or snatching some shuteye in the barracks," Sheppard said blandly. "And you know anything said by passengers isn't my business." Tipping his head in farewell, Sheppard returned to his helo.

In advance of Gen. O'Neill, an understaffed team of three marines—two men and one woman—took over the back of John's helo. Their unit patch read SG-15, a service designation John wasn't familiar with. As they settled in the back, John automatically cataloged names and ranks.

Major McLean was a large and stern-looking man with a shaved head, light brown skin, wide nose, and deep bass voice full of gravel. Next to McLean sat the almost as big Sgt. Kindall, a seemingly-reserved man with intense eyes, lightly tanned skin, and dark brown hair and eyes. Both jarheads looked like they chewed up tanks for breakfast. Across from them lounged Capt. King, the final member of their team, a tall woman with dark hair and wicked eyes. She reminded John of a lioness between hunts and looked a little mean in all the best of ways. John couldn't help the way his gaze lingered on her in the rearview mirror as she mocked her teammates.

He'd always liked his women a little mean.

John never would've survived friendship with Rome for so many years otherwise. Dr. Rodney Meredith "Rome" Mckay was the meanest and smartest woman he'd ever met. Inexplicably she was also one of his best friends, though he had no idea how that had happened. Probably all of the forced interactions while testing experimental planes for the military had tricked him into some version of Stockholm Syndrome.

Not that he'd seen her since she'd skipped out on attending his disastrous wedding to Nancy three years ago. Rome still owed him an apology, even if she had been right about his ex. He missed Rome, but he wasn't going to be the one to give in and contact her first, not after she'd abandoned him without even a phone call. Her shipping him the most expensive present off the wedding registry meant nothing. She hadn't even bothered with a personalized note, just typed _From Mckay_ on the invoice.

John still felt hurt by her abandonment. Rome hadn't even bothered to call after his divorce to gloat and sympathize. He'd almost broken down and called her himself after signing the paperwork, but then someone had mentioned that she'd married Dr. Troy Forrester and was busy breaking the laws of physics somewhere classified overseas. John had hated Forrester ever since they'd worked together on a project in England. He'd decided not to bother calling. Besides, the only way to get a current phone number would've been to beg Jean, her little sister, and he wasn't feeling that pathetic just yet.

When the bored marines in the back of the helo mentioned the name Mckay several minutes later, John almost turned around. He forced himself to brush it off as a coincidence. However, he started paying attention in the mirror, just in case they had new RUMINT on Rome.

"I'm just saying, Mckay might've been exaggerating things to get attention," Maj. McLean said, sucking on a tooth sourly. "No one else saw this suspicious black SUV following her around in town and let's be honest, who'd willingly subject themselves to her company? There's a reason she's single on a base full of horny men and it isn't because she's ugly."

"Mckay is pretty attractive—well, as long as she keeps her mouth shut. We all know she can be an arrogant drama queen," Capt. King wrinkled her nose, "but she's also insanely smart and can fix just about anything. That might make the mouth worth it to some people."

"Is it really paranoia if she's been kidnapped before?" Sgt. Kindall asked mildly. "Better to keep Mckay safe now with a few men than have to mount a rescue later. I got injured on the last one. The extra security doesn't cost that much in the long run."

McLean snorted derisively, "Except for those men's sanity. Mckay's more irritating than a rotting tooth and twice as painful."

"Well, at least we got to avoid that dentist visit," King smirked and fired finger guns at McLean. "Thanks, Major. This detail is way better."

The bald McLean grunted in acknowledgment.

As the conversation turned to sports, John let his attention wander. Their talk linking Mckay and kidnapping made him start to doubt his stubborn decision to hold radio silence with Rome. _What if something bad _had _happened to her? What if she wasn't safe and happy over in Europe with her four-eyed jerk of a husband after all? _

As they waited for Gen. O'Neill to arrive, John did his best to ignore the sometimes confusing conversation in the back, but since they'd already roused his usually dormant curiosity, it was hard to stop listening now. The things their words danced around didn't add up based on any of the active conflicts the US was currently engaged in, at least not those he knew about. Of course, John had also participated in a few actions that most people didn't have the clearance to know about.

It didn't really matter because—John forcefully reminded himself—it was none of his business.

Trying to recover his usual detachment, John checked his instruments for the fourth time. He didn't _want_ to feel curious. Curiosity was dangerous because it led to change. John was comfortable. So what if he'd become a loner in a dead-end job with a CO just hoping for an excuse to discharge him? John was _fine_. He didn't need or want change coming in and making things worse, and it could _always_ get worse.

He also didn't need to know exactly what Mckay was up to now, not as long as she was safe. Rome always shook up his life and expectations in crazy ways. Better to avoid her. If she was really in trouble, she knew where to find him, care of the USAF, but she'd left him first, thrown him away and abandoned him. If she called, he'd come flying with weapons primed, but until then, John Sheppard would keep his head down.

Finally, Gen. O'Neill arrived, a fit man in his early fifties with iron-gray hair and an unusually laid-back attitude for someone of his rank. He was talking on a cell phone as he stepped onboard. Despite wracking his brain, John didn't recognize the man. Maybe Sgt. Deckard had been wrong when he'd claimed he'd seen O'Neill's signature on John's early transfer paperwork. That or there was a simple explanation John was missing.

Everyone came to attention when he entered, but O'Neill was distracted by his call. Holding his phone between shoulder and chin, the general waved off the salutes and passed his bag to Sgt. Kindall to stow as he continued talking. "I see you finally got tired of dodging my calls, Daniel. I know I said I trusted you guys to do this for me, but come on! You know how the IOA is going to react to this."

Pulling out a crumpled paper detailing the itinerary, he passed it to John. The general's first stop turned out to be Nellis AFB in Nevada. John had never been. Nellis supposedly doubled as the real-life Area 51, home of aliens and top secret projects. John had always loved sci-fi. He'd done a lot of top-secret aircraft testing in his career—if it flew, he could pilot it—but never at Nellis.

After Nellis, they routed to Washington D.C., a slower trip by helo than by plane, but it wasn't John's job to ask questions, just to follow orders. Queuing up the map to double-check the route, he kept his face turned away from the General's phone conversation to give him an illusion of privacy. Nevertheless, John kept a surreptitious eye on the mirror to watch the cabin at his back.

"Why do you do this to me? Are you sure we can't find someone better from the pool of volunteers? And no, that doesn't mean you. _No_, Daniel!" In response to what he was hearing, O'Neill made a face. "No, that's not what I said. Don't tell Carter I said that. I did not say that! Obviously, she'd be a shoo-in if she wasn't needed more here, just like you, but we do need both of you here. I'm just saying that the IOA isn't going to like them all being women."

O'Neill paused again and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yes, I can logically see why you chose them, they're very qualified, but despite your gleeful hand-rubbing at being all high-minded, you have to know this would cause a few raised brows. We have to operate in the world the way it is, not the way you think it should be."

O'Neill listened, then growled irritably, "For crying out loud, I was busy saving the world! I didn't have time to look at the files earlier! That's why I assigned this to my old team, to people I trust."

The corners of his mouth pinched tighter. "I do _not_ always use saving the world as an excuse, but whatever the case, you got your way. I sent the files already, so it's out of my hands now. I just boarded my flight. I'll call you again after the IOA meeting, so you better be picking up your phone. I won't forget this though, you can count on _that_. O'Neill out." Stabbing the off button, O'Neill roughly shoved the phone into his pocket with a growl and moved to the cockpit.

John swung around in his chair. The General glanced down at John's uniform patch. "Thanks for the last-minute ride, Major Sheppard. Nellis AFB is our first stop."

"Yes, sir," John saluted.

O'Neill started to turn away but suddenly did a double-take. The exasperated older man unexpectedly morphed into a steely-eyed warrior, subjecting Sheppard to a piercing examination. "Is the J on your uniform for John, by chance? Major John Sheppard late of Antarctica and Afghanistan?"

"Yes, sir," John said slowly, ignoring the impulse to either shuffle his feet nervously or jump to attention. Instead, he gave the General a respectful but breezy salute. Did the man recognize John's name because he actually had signed John's transfer paperwork? But if so, did it really matter?

"Huh." The intense stare disappeared, just as mysteriously as it had started. O'Neill turned away and strapped in. "Okay, we're good to go, Major."

"Yes, sir," John repeated, shaking off his discomfort as he radioed the tower for takeoff.

"Thanks for the last minute escort, Major McLean," General O'Neill said through the public mic channel once the helo leveled off. "And congrats on the promotion from captain."

"Thank you, sir," the gravelly-voiced marine answered.

"I'm sorry you guys got stuck following me around to meetings this week, considering your typical assignments. My usual detail and transport got hijacked last-minute to put out a fire I don't have time to get involved in. You'll probably be bored, but then again, so will I," the general joked.

"Oh no, sir, we wanted this assignment. Boring is right up our alley considering the alternatives," McLean reassured him. "Since we just dropped off our unit's anthropologist at a professional conference, we're stuck with guard duty around here until he comes back. It was between you, Dr. Jackson, and Dr. Mckay."

John's heartbeat jumped at another mention of Mckay's name.

Unaware of John's increased scrutiny, O'Neill snorted with amusement as McLean continued his explanation. "As you can imagine, the jockeying was fierce. Since we were already in Cali after dropping off our anthropologist, we sweet-talked the duty officer and won the right to join up with you here."

Then again, John told himself, Mckay was a common enough last name. It was probably a coincidence. A genius astrophysicist and engineer, even one who'd designed experimental aircraft, wouldn't fit in with people who found it rational to place anthropologists of all things on military squads. Rome was very vocal in her disdain of "soft sciences" like anthropology.

"I have to ask," General O'Neill asked teasingly, "who was your second choice for guard duty, Jackson or Mckay?"

The squad exchanged looks as McLean answered, "We couldn't agree on who was worse, so we decided to leave it up to Capt. King."

"I lost at Rock, Paper, Scissors," King confessed with amusement in her voice. "If things had gone really wrong, they'd have blamed it all on me. Thanks for saving me from that, sir."

"If you'd chosen Mckay as you'd threatened," McLean growled, "you'd have deserved that blame and worse."

"Hey," she defended hotly, "you'd have chosen Mckay too if you'd had to rescue Dr. Jackson from being sacrificed by a cult, only to have him apologize to the natives for excessive force and then make you all perform a ritual cleansing that lasted for six hours and included feathered costumes and a public performance of something eerily close to the Hokey Pokey."

"I thought it was the Macarena?" asked Kindall with a serious expression belied by his twinkling brown eyes.

Laughing, O'Neill said, "That's nothing. I could tell you stories about Jackson and SG-1 that would make your hair curl."

"I don't doubt it, sir," McLean said with a flash of teeth as he rubbed a hand over his shaved head, "but I'd rather perform with Dr. Jackson in a chorus line for a solid week than deal with Dr. Mckay. At least Jackson's brave. If Mckay isn't complaining about the sun shining in the sky, she's cowering over her computers or ordering us around like raw recruits who can't tell their asses from their elbows."

"Using the wrong names, of course," King interjected with an eye roll. "They're embroidered on our uniforms, how hard can it be to read? Though I will say that when she's berating one of her minions, she totally cracks me up. She's also pretty handy when something complicated breaks. I almost like her despite myself, but then she goes and talks to me and that ruins it before I can get ahead of myself."

McLean grimaced. "Speak for yourself. I'd hate to have to rely on her out in the field. Thankfully she mostly sticks to her lab unless the powers that be force her out in the field with a passel of babysitters. If they could find someone with a bigger brain, they'd replace her and throw a party. She's a pain. When push comes to shove, I doubt Mckay cares for anyone but herself and cold hard facts."

"That's not true," Kindall interrupted with quiet authority, ignoring the incredulous look McLean threw his way. "A few months ago, my old squad got sent to rescue her from a kidnapping. In the process, I got injured and the two of us got separated from gear and backup. We had to make the stargate on our own on foot. I'm not arguing that she can be difficult, but when push comes to shove, Mckay has a core of steel. I would trust her with my life. I have."

McLean scoffed, "Well, what about the time—"

"That's enough, Marines," O'Neill cut him off.

John's head spun over what he'd just heard. Despite his earlier doubts, their descriptions certainly sounded like his Rome. People either hated or loved her.

Like Judith Works had written in _City of Illusions_, "Living in Rome is either a one or a two, or a nine or ten. Not much in between."

But if it really was his Mckay, did that mean she'd been the one kidnapped last year? What if she had tried to contact him and he'd missed it? It's not like he'd been easy to get ahold of in the last year. He didn't even have a cell phone. John wished he'd given in to impulse and contacted her when he'd first hit stateside. Instead, he'd clung stubbornly to his silence and wallowed in a detached state created by his grief and bitterness.

Also, what was a "stargate" the codename for and how was Mckay involved? If she was. For months John had felt too numb to let mysteries bother him, but learning about O'Neill's potential interference with his posting followed by hearing Mckay's name felt like a battering ram, causing huge fissures in his ennui.

"Our pilot hasn't been read in, he's a last minute sub," the general said pointedly. "Mckay is nails-on-the-chalkboard irritating but completely dependable and this conversation is starting to veer into overly detailed. I started it, so we'll let it slide, but our pilot's going to forget everything he just heard and we're going to change the subject, right Major Sheppard?"

"Passengers complain all the time, sir," Sheppard answered blandly. "It goes in one ear and out the other." Biting down on the useless impulse to ask questions, to demand to know if their Mckay was his Rome, John turned back to his instruments.

"Excellent," the General said breezily. "What's our ETA for Nellis?"

"About forty-five more minutes, sir," Sheppard answered. "I'll top off the tanks just in case and then it's a straight shot to D.C. I should get you there plenty early, even with the helo's slower flight time."

"Extra time with the IOA. Oh, joy." O'Neill wrinkled his nose. "I appreciate your competence, Major, but don't feel the need to break any speed records. I have to be there on time, but I'd rather not be available for any extra meetings. There's a reason I'm taking a helo cross country."

"Roger that, Sir," Sheppard said, ignoring the impulse to ask the irreverent general a follow-up question about who the IOA were and why they were so bad. John didn't need to know. He kept his face blank and mouth shut, letting the routine of flying fill his thoughts.

Still, he couldn't completely restrain his curiosity as they approached Nellis AFB, the rumored Area 51 and alien crash site. Sheppard tried not to look around too obviously as he radioed the tower and received confirmation and an approach vector. There weren't any obvious signs of aliens, but that didn't necessarily mean the little gray men weren't here, John thought with a barely-suppressed grin. "I'm starting our descent now," he announced.

Suddenly his instruments beeped stridently and flashed red, registering an incoming missile. "What the—!" Sheppard exclaimed even as he swerved and activated the helo's defense screen. "Missile inbound!"

Ignoring the shocked questions from the cabin, John opened a channel to Nellis AFB even as he continued evasive maneuvers. "Why are we under fire?" he demanded. "We're friendlies! This is USAF Major John Sheppard with General O'Neill onboard! Nellis, do you copy?"

Grim-faced, the General dropped into the copilot seat and strapped in as the tower squawked back with panic. "Nellis here, we didn't fire! At least, I don't think—we're tracking the origin point now and scrambling reinforcements. Hold on, over."

Cursing under his breath, John's focus narrowed to the missile gaining on his tail. It didn't behave like anything he'd ever seen before. None of his feints or jammers worked. It had to be cutting edge tech.

O'Neill opened a private channel on the radio and began snapping orders, but John barely paid attention as he struggled to keep his bird ahead of the missile and in one piece. Someone dry heaved in the back. If they puked, they were cleaning it up themselves. John took a hard left and dived, trying to get under the missile's tracking software. The missile overshot to the right but then curved at a seemingly impossible angle to come roaring back.

Sheppard might have finally met his match when it came to flying. He'd never faced a missile this advanced before, despite years testing experimental planes and weapons. However, it wasn't just his life at risk here, but the lives of the general and his Marines. John had to figure out a way to save them.

Eyes darting across the mountainous desert landscape, John took a page from the alien-fighting movie _Independence Day_ and dived down into a canyon. Of course, Will Smith had been in a jet—not a helicopter—and it had all been movie magic. Too late now.

Captain King gave a soprano yelp as the helo's tail clipped the wall, jarring the cabin and snapping one of the tail blades. It was damaged but still functional as long as the remaining blades stayed intact. John forced the rocking helo to steady in the air.

For a moment he thought he'd lost the missile with his crazy maneuver, but then it reappeared behind them in the narrow passage. "What is that thing, the Energizer Bunny?" O'Neill muttered as John zipped around a series of sharp turns. "It keeps going and going and going…."

"It doesn't strike me as the drum and sunglass type," Captain King joked tightly. "It's probably more like the killer rabbit from Monty Python."

"If we die," McLean growled, "they better not put on my tombstone that I was killed by a rabbit."

"Man, I could really go for a Tombstone Pizza right now," Sgt. Kindall said breathlessly.

The missile crept inexorably closer as they raced through the tunnel of orange rock. Readouts blinked orange and red and panels creaked as the aircraft strained against its mechanical limits. With the damaged tail rotor, their maneuverability was limited. John's best efforts weren't going to be enough to save these men.

Again.

Stomach a knot, Sheppard felt a flicker of hope as the missile abruptly began swerving back and forth, as if experiencing difficulties acquiring a lock. Pressing his lips tight, Sheppard went for a Hail Mary and yanked his bird down into a steep corkscrew dive.

"What are you doing?!" McLean cried as the helo angled down almost vertically toward the canyon floor, pressing everyone forward against their straps. The missile followed, dangerously close.

Not answering, John turned sharply, threading a narrow opening low on the canyon wall. He pushed the speed to max, going back up in as steep of an angle as he could without bleeding off too much acceleration. He hoped to trick the missile into hitting one of the stone bridges overhead or the rocky walls.

Unfortunately, despite its jerky flightpath, the missile still followed after them, refusing to be distracted. John scraped through the sharp twists and turns of the tight canyon with nothing but blind faith in his reactions and an intimate knowledge of his machine. "Come on, baby, you can do this," he coaxed desperately. Sweat dripped over his forehead and stung his eyes, but he couldn't risk blinking.

Coming around a bend, he felt his heart drop at the high orange cliff face directly ahead. They were either going to smash into the wall in front or explode from the missile in back. Refusing to give up, Sheppard stubbornly forced his beleaguered helo to climb. The engine whined in protest. The wall loomed larger and larger, eclipsing the sky until there was nothing but burnt orange rock and scraggly brown plants in his windshield.

At the last second, a sliver of blue sky appeared at the top of the windshield. The body of the helo scraped over the lip of the canyon. The landing skids caught on the rocky edge, jolting them hard. Something snapped. The helo tipped. The main rotor clipped the rocky plateau and the tips of several blades snapped off.

If that rotor broke, they were dead. If they lost any more blades, they would crash. Even if they didn't lose more, the blades he had still might be too damaged to level out his bird before it was too late.

Time slowed as Sheppard fought with his controls, forcing his damaged machine to grudgingly right itself.

About to take a breath, John saw the missile's sleek body appear on his rear screen. It really was the energizer bunny, he thought half-hysterically. Swearing under his breath, John couldn't do much more than keep his bird in the sky. At this point, fancy maneuvers would crash them for sure.

They were dead.

The missile on his tail suddenly dived, hitting the rim of the cliff they'd just cleared and exploding in a ball of yellow, red, and black. The pressure wave pushed his helo's nose forward, bouncing them off the rocky ground with a tongue-biting jolt. Swallowing blood, John fought the controls and got them back up into the sky.

They were alive.

John could barely believe it.

"Damn fine flying, Sheppard," the general said breathlessly. "I see what she sees in you."

Before John could ask for clarification on who "she" was, the back cabin exploded into cheers. King pumped her fist in the air. "Hoorah Major, you have nerves of steel for a flyboy!" The other Marines began talking over each other in their excitement and the moment was lost.

John checked his sensors again, but couldn't see any other threats. However, he wasn't ready to relax the protection of his charges just yet, not after being attacked on American soil by a missile so high-tech he'd never even heard whispers of something with similar maneuvering capabilities. "I'm not reading any other missiles, General, but radar doesn't show the reinforcements they promised either. Nevertheless, if Nellis is compromised, I can take you to a safer location. Creech AFB isn't far."

Face hard, O'Neill shook his head and held up a hand while he listed to something on a private channel. He listened to the response and growled. "You can bet I want to see them! Be there soon, O'Neill out."

Turning to Sheppard, the general ordered, "Take us down, Major. I'm told that the attack was a research accident. I've been promised that the situation is contained and the weapons disabled."

"Yes, sir," Sheppard answered grudgingly, wishing he could demand the general explain what was actually going on instead of having to swallow such a piss-poor explanation, but a major didn't order a general to do anything.

Babying his damaged bird now that danger was passed, Sheppard slowly and shakily flew them back to Nellis. After a bumpy landing due to the damaged landing skids, his passengers disembarked from the canted vehicle. John powered down his bird and hopped out to assess the damage.

His first good look at the outside make him wince. The helo had dents and scratches on just about every surface and was missing pieces from the tail and undercarriage. Not even one of the blades was the right length anymore. She would need major repairs if they didn't decide to just outright scrap her.

"Poor girl, you did a good job," John murmured, rubbing a hand down her ruined paint job.

"Sheppard, with me," called General O'Neill.

"Sir?" John had intending to remain topside, especially since he didn't have clearance to wander around a top-secret base like Nellis.

"We're going to need new transport and you deserve a moment to relax after flying like that." O'Neill paused and looked John over. "Besides, it's over a hundred degrees out here. Are you still good to fly me to Washington today or do you need me to find another pilot? There's no shame if you need time for your adrenaline crash, Major. Not after a save like that."

Grateful for the general's consideration, John nevertheless shook his head. "Thank you, sir, but as long as you get me a new bird to fly, I'll be fine. However, I don't have clearance to go inside Nellis."

"Don't worry about it." O'Neill clapped John on the back and steered him with a firm hand towards where a welcome committee anxiously waited across the tarmac. "Just don't touch anything." On that note, the general strode into the waiting crowd. SG-15 followed protectively at his heels and a curious-despite-himself John brought up the rear.

With each step forward, O'Neill's posture shifted, until he looked like a dangerous general again, one ready to tear somebody a new one.

At their approach, a sweaty and pale-faced Colonel who's uniform read Graff—probably the base CO—stepped forward. "I am so sorry, General. Are you alright?"

"I'm alive, no thanks to you. If I hadn't had God's gift to pilots on the stick, I'd be dead." O'Neill snapped crankily as he stomped past Graff and into the facility. "How did this happen and where were my reinforcements?"

Everyone followed, with Sheppard holding up the rear next to King with her feline stalk and eyes begging someone to just give her an excuse to unsheath her claws. John was very careful to maintain a respectful distance and not block the sightlines to her charge.

As they descended into the bowels of the base, Graff kept up a constant stream of excuses. They were so flimsy even John could see through them. O'Neill abruptly held up one hand. "Stop and let me shovel out of this pile of shit you're trying to bury me in. In summary, you underestimated the very geniuses we employ, failed to keep oversight of their labs, and put green officers in advanced positions without sufficient training. You screwed up. Any last words before I talk to the scientists?"

Col. Graff's sweaty face went dark red. He really should keep his mouth shut, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. That or he thought things couldn't get any worse no matter what he said. For all John knew, he might've been right.

"I'm not the only one who made mistakes. Dr. Mckay may be smart, but she's also pushy, shrill, and unreasonable. She should've stayed in Antarctica where she belongs. If she'd done her job properly instead of wandering off to powder her nose, this wouldn't have happened!" His voice boomed vociferously as they pushed through a double door into a large room with a soaring ceiling and tables covered in high-tech machinery.

Just inside the room stood a scowling woman with her arms crossed. John stumbled. It was _Rome_. Mckay was here. His lips shaped her name silently, helplessly, "_Rome_."

He'd orbited this woman for half his life. Would he be drawn in again? Did he want to be?

"That's a gross oversimplification of the accident!" Mckay cut her calloused and grease-stained hands through the air. Green ink smudged along the inside of her wrist. "Besides, you're even more pushy and unreasonable, Colonel Graff, but without the intelligence to back it up. And the only reason your voice isn't shrill is that you have a pair of balls—at least, I assume you do, all evidence to the contrary. Otherwise, what you just said about me would be called _whining_."

Seeing Rome again always felt like coming out of a cave and staring directly into the sun. The years had been kind to her. Mckay's golden hair still gleamed, her blue eyes still snapped, her perfect breasts still heaved when she was in a temper, and her tongue still cut like a razor. John had hoped that the years apart would make her effect on him less potent, but no such luck. Mckay still looked magnificent, especially when in a temper.

Change had found him whether he wanted it or not, damn it.

* * *

**AN:** And that's Episode 1. Yay! Leave me a review, please. I live for those things.

I cast Kate Winslet as Mckay. I'm going to post a bunch of story and cast related images on my Indygodusk Tumblr, so check that out over the next little while.

_Military Acronyms:_

AFB - air force base

Helo - helicopter

RUMINT - rumors and intelligence, gossip

CO - commanding officer


	2. Chapter 2

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 2**

* * *

"_Living in Rome is either a one or a two, or a nine or ten. Not much in between. And some days it's both."_

_-JUDITH WORKS, City of Illusions_

After the initial shock of seeing Mckay, part of John wanted to laugh at her on-point insults of Col. Graff while the rest wanted to wince with worry at how careless she could still be with people in authority, especially when she felt insecure. Mckay had no filter. Considering some of the retribution she'd had to endure over the years, he'd have thought she'd have learned how to bite her tongue. Then again, there was some comfort in seeing her uncowed by life's judgments and misfortunes. Rome had always been a force of nature.

Ever since the first time John met Mckay while test piloting experimental planes, he'd found himself fascinated. Over the years their lives had intersected again and again. Something kept bringing him back to Rome. Each time, John's life changed. Not all changes were good ones. He wondered who he'd become this time. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Colonel Graff glared at Mckay. "Oh really? Because I've never met anyone but a baby who whines as much as you do, _Rodney_."

Instantly Rome's chin jerked up. "The name is Mer-e-dith," she enunciated, "at least to my friends, which you are not. You may address me as Dr. Mckay or Doctor. I know _my_ value to this program. Shall we see how yours compares when weighed against the safety of our entire planet?"

Inhaling harshly, Col. Graff clenched his fists, lowered his head, and took a heavy step towards Mckay. "You really wanna compare dicks, girly?" he growled.

Muscles up and down John's back went tight. He wasn't sure his career could survive hitting a superior officer, but he might just have to risk it.

Stepping forward, General O'Neill barked, "That's enough."

Colonel Graff halted in his tracks and then pivoted sharply, stalking to the back of the room to pace and cool off.

Acting completely unaware of the danger she'd just narrowly avoided, Mckay tucked her hands into her pockets and turned to O'Neill. "So did anyone get hurt by the missile?"

"Just the multi-million dollar helicopter," O'Neill answered wryly, keeping the nearly apoplectic Col. Graff in his line of sight. Sgt. Kindall glided forward to put himself between the colonel and the doctor before John could push his way through the crowd to do the same.

At O'Neill's words, Mckay rocked back on her heels. "I can fix a helicopter, General."

"You aren't a mechanic, Dr. Mckay; you're the program's lead scientist in Ancient Engineering. Now, would you care to tell me why your department's shooting at me?" He lowered his eyebrows and glared.

The corner of Mckay's mouth went crooked with unhappiness. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and gestured them deeper into the lab. "No one is shooting at you on purpose, General. If we were, you'd be dead. Dr. Riley merely got overly ambitious with the missile's wiring and programs while I took a bathroom break—_something everyone on base is legally allowed to do_—" she said pointedly in Colonel Graff's direction, "and then she forgot to tell me about her changes before I hooked up the power coupler because she was too busy eyeballing Carson and trying to work up the courage to ask him out."

"Don't tease the poor lassie, Meredith," scolded a Scottish-sounding man standing off to the side rubbing the back of a sobbing woman in a lab coat. "She's traumatized enough and," he turned to look at the new arrivals, "it's Dr. Carson Beckett, General O'Neill. Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances." His Scottish accent became fainter when he addressed the general instead of Mckay.

"Oh for—" Mckay broke off in exasperation— "Carson, would you go out to dinner with Dr. Riley?"

"What?" He squeaked, eyes going wide. "Ah dinnae ken…" he trailed off, his Scottish Brogue back in full force. Dr. Beckett looked down at the woman now frozen beneath his hand. "I mean, she seems nice enough, so I suppose so?"

"Great. Do it tonight and resolve this so she can focus on her work." Mckay pointed at them both sharply.

"Well alright…" Becket floundered for a moment before pulling himself back together. "Getting back to the point, things wouldna have gotten out o' hand if you hadna forced me to touch those alien artifacts of yours. I'm a physician, not a lab rat! I have my own research—very important research on creating an artificial form of the Ancient gene—and the soona you let me finish it, the soona you'll have extra people to help you with those experiments of yours."

"I understand that Carson, but until then I need you and your genes. I can't make much progress with these artifacts until someone turns them on. If you actually came over regularly as you'd agreed to, I wouldn't have to badger you at all," Mckay defended in an irascible tone.

"I'm still not clear on what happened, Doctors," O'Neill interrupted. "Dumb it down for me. You were going to explain about the missile?"

John found his attention drawn to a table holding a strange, circular device. It looked like a chunky bracelet made out of unfamiliar polymer. In his mind, he felt something strange, like a puppy whining for attention, but using math instead of sound.

John had intended to avoid trouble and hold up the wall in the back of the room, maybe even stay hidden and avoid Mckay's brand of change now that he could see that she was fine. Instead, he found himself drifting forward and picking up the bracelet. It lit up blue in his hand with a mental purr and lick of pi. He should be freaking out, but the mental touch felt oddly nice. Plus, he'd always had a secret love of math. He rubbed his thumb across the surface and the blue glow brightened. It felt natural. Behind the numbers, he could almost understand something more.

"Of course, General," he heard Mckay say loudly on the other side of the room, drawing his attention. "I was just getting to that. We were working on a new missile incorporating some technology from the Nox—which took some creativity on my part considering their pacifistic nature if you know what I mean. It wasn't supposed to have an acceleration package yet, but Dr. Riley decided to hook one up to see if the connections fit properly inside the housing and then she began tweaking the software.

"When I got back from my _very short_ bathroom break, I began working on the power coupler. While my back was turned, Dr. Beckett tried to sneak out of the room and the experiment time he'd promised me. I grabbed his arm and marched him back over to the box of Ancient artifacts, handing him what I suspect is a protective personal shield. His gene activated it and the artifact produced a glowing mass of energy that encircled both Dr. Beckett and the nearby Dr. Riley.

"Riley panicked. In her flailing, she accidentally launched the experimental missile." Mckay gestured at a hole in the back wall that John hadn't noticed until now. "Since she'd been in the middle of re-coding the software, the missile wouldn't respond to my access codes. It took me longer than expected to hack it, rewrite new code for both the Earth and Nox components, and shut down the targeting systems. I'm sorry, but I worked as fast as possible."

Mckay stuck her chin out belligerently. "In my defense, almost no one else on the planet would've been able to recode it at all, much less that fast. Also, we now have proof that the missile is viable for our needs and some good ideas about vulnerabilities that need to be patched. We're ready to hand it off for the next phase weeks ahead of schedule."

The general sighed in exasperation but otherwise seemed to accept Mckay's crazy story. "Fine."

"I'm so s-s-sorry," Dr. Riley stuttered wetly, wiping her blotchy face on her sleeve.

Doctor Becket handed her a tissue. "Me too, General O'Neill. I'm sorry I ever turned that infernal Ancient thing on. It was horrible, like being squeezed in from all sides by a hungry giant." Dr. Beckett turned and gestured at the item glowing brightly in John's hands. "So I can't completely blame Dr. Ri…ley for…." His words stumbled to a halt.

Everyone stared at Sheppard.

"I'll just… put this back," John said awkwardly, pushing past his strange reluctance. As soon as he stopped touching it, the bracelet went dark and the math in his head dropped to a distant whisper. John didn't like the way everyone was looking at him. He took a step back.

"It lit up for him," Beckett said with wonder. "Who is he? And canna you give him to Meredith? Please?"

"John," Rome breathed. She met his eyes and smiled widely with honest delight.

It made John _want_ things and that just wasn't fair. John tightened his lips so they wouldn't betray him by curling up since they refused to scowl at her the way he wanted them to.

Thought he wanted them to.

Whatever.

Smile fading at his lack of greeting, Mckay dropped her eyes and cleared her throat. "John Sheppard—I mean—_Major_ Sheppard. Hello." Hiding what looked like shaking hands in her pockets, she cleared her throat again and focused on the device on the table.

After a moment of awkward silence, Mckay shook herself and looked back up at him with a professional mask. "Well, Major? Pick it up again. Go on."

John shouldn't do it, because if he gave Rome an inch, she'd take not just a mile, but the entire continent as her right and start ordering him around constantly. Reigning her back in later always took forever. Nevertheless, John did what she asked since he sort of wanted to anyway despite all of the staring eyes.

As soon as his fingers touched the bracelet, the math danced in happy circles around his mind and the strange polymer once more glowed in his hands.

Mckay looked at him with quirked lips and a complex expression he couldn't quite read. "Well isn't that a kick in the pants?" she said quietly before raising her voice. "What does it do, Major Sheppard? Can you tell us?"

_How should he know? _John was about to answer irritably when the explanation floated to the surface of his mind. "It's a pacifier," he said, looking down at the strange bracelet warily. _How did he know that?_ "It scans for anxious mental signatures and gives them the sensation of being gently swaddled. It can be automatic or directed. It's primarily meant to soothe babies and calm accident victims."

Crinkling his brow and biting back on the rest of the technical details jumping up and down enthusiastically in the back of his mind, he looked at Mckay with barely suppressed panic. Instead of giving him an actual explanation, she just sent him a soothing smile twisted with envy. It didn't help.

"What was that?" John demanded to the room at large, though not quite as firmly as he'd intended. _Was this experimental technology? Was he in his bunk right now dreaming? Or had that missile killed him after all?_

Dr. Riley hiccupped crossly and ignored John's incipient panic. "It certainly didn't feel like a gentle swaddle to me."

"I hafta agree with the lass," Dr. Beckett nodded.

"That's because you're both big babies," Mckay rolled her eyes and glanced around before zeroing in on the marines from John's helo. "Hey, Mr. Clean, Xena," she pointed at Maj. McLean and Capt. King, who did look uncannily like their nicknames. "Go over there and let Sheppard swaddle you. Tell me if it's just a hug or if it really is a personal shield."

"It's _Major McLean_," the bald marine gritted out. Nevertheless, after a wave from O'Neill, he stomped forward to stand in front of John. Sighing, King followed.

"Oh, congratulations on the promotion from Captain," Mckay said absently as she turned to a computer and started a recording, missing McLean's flummoxed double-take at her noticing.

"Now swaddle them, Sheppard," she ordered, turning back with a mischievous grin.

"You sure this is a good idea?" John asked nervously, glancing over at the general.

O'Neill shrugged, "Probably not."

"_Yes_. Now go on." Mckay shot the General a glare.

"You sure there aren't any more missiles primed to take off in here?" O'Neill asked archly as he moved back against the wall and out of the way.

Mckay folded her arms stubbornly. "Of course not. Can we proceed now?"

"Sure, knock yourselves out," O'Neill said breezily.

"He doesn't mean that literally," she told either John or the marines. "It'll be fine. Go ahead, Sheppard."

Bracing himself for something crazy and horrible, John instinctively activated the pacifier device. A glowing field of energy spread out from the bracelet and encircled McLean and King. They both twitched as if restraining themselves from fighting back. After a moment of tense silence, King relaxed and laughed.

"What?" Mckay demanded, practically bouncing on her toes and holding a green pen poised to take notes. "Is it a shield?"

"Nah, it feels like getting a bear hug from my dad," King smiled wistfully. Looking over at her commanding officer, she arched a dark eyebrow in inquiry. "What about you, sir?"

"I feel snuggled," McLean answered, deadpan.

Sgt. Kindall came up and poked a finger effortlessly through the energy field. "It doesn't feel like a shield at all," he reported, smiling faintly when his next poke made McLean flinch and glare.

"I don't know the utility of this device, but why don't we see how big the effect is," O'Neill said. "Snuggle a few more people, Sheppard. Start with Mckay, see if it can make her at least speak slower even if it can't make her less irritating."

"Oh, now wait a minute." Mckay backed up nervously. "I don't like being touched."

Smirking, John reached out and quickly engulfed her in the glow. "Oh!" she jumped and stood stock still. Her cheeks turned pink. After a few seconds, Rome relaxed back into the field with a soft sigh, her eyes going heavy-lidded and dark. It made something in John's stomach flip. He had to turn away before he did something embarrassing.

Clearing his throat, John said, "I'm going to start using it on more people. If you don't want to participate, move out of the room." Colonel Graff immediately left along with most of his staff. John hadn't realized he was still there. Dr. Beckett and Dr. Riley looked at each other nervously but stayed. Despite that, John decided to spare them by saving them for last.

"Not me," General O'Neill passed. "I get enough of the kooky stuff on my own time."

Shrugging, John 'swaddled' Sgt. Kindall, followed by a couple of the remaining spectators. The blue field became almost transparent. "I think six people are the limit," John said.

Mckay nodded. "Alright, you can end the test." John heard a hint of wistfulness in her voice, but nothing else gave away the fact that she'd enjoyed it.

As soon as John mentally told the device to shut off, the glowing blue field of snuggles disappeared, the math slid back down into the depths of his mind, and the bracelet went dark. John put it down and stepped away. Only then did he realize that some of the symbols used in the equations were things he'd never encountered in a textbook before. Mckay might recognize the strange symbols if he showed her, but would she believe that the equations pranced around like puppies? It was crazy.

John stubbornly set his jaw and refused to ask, just to be contrary. He didn't want curiosity, he didn't want change, and he definitely didn't want to be in charge of other people again. Responsibility was overrated. He just wanted to keep his head down and fly.

Mckay rushed towards John with excitement. "You have the Ancient gene, Sheppard. This is perfect! You have to come and work for me!"

"Ah ah!" General O'Neill scolded. "He doesn't have the clearance yet."

"Then give it to him," Mckay ordered impatiently. "I need his gene. Do you know how many discoveries I could be making if I didn't have to fight with Carson to come over here once a week? Did you see what Sheppard just did so effortlessly? His gene might be as strong as yours. Plus, the IOA is about to green-light Atlantis. He could be the difference between success and failure."

"If he wants to volunteer after hearing about it. He might not," the General warned.

Mckay waved his objections away. "Of course he will. It's—it's Atlantis!" Her arms waved in the air. "Of course John will want to go with me. He'll be great!"

John ground his teeth so hard it felt like his molars were about to crack. _What the hell were they talking about?_ Mckay couldn't just force him to change postings without a by-your-leave. Plus, anything volunteer-only usually translated to high-risk and suicidal.

Rewinding Rome's words, John suddenly realized that she was already signed up for this suicide mission to Atlantis, wherever that was. She could die out there, die on some top-secret mission and John might never even be told that she was gone. The thought of Rome in danger, of Rome _dead,_ made the refusal he'd been about to spit out wither on the tip of his tongue.

Unaware of John's turmoil, Mckay cocked her head to the side and stepped towards O'Neill. "You are going to put me in charge of research on Atlantis, aren't you? You know I deserve it and you owe me, Jack. You made me go out there despite my objections. Well, now I want to go out there for myself. I'll call in all my chips if I have to. I want this posting. No one is more qualified than I am for Atlantis. No one." She was practically vibrating by the end of her speech.

John released a slow breath. He still had time. Mckay hadn't been approved to go yet.

"Don't badger me, Mckay. I know your qualifications and what I owe you, but the ultimate decision isn't up to me. The IOA has the final say on the command staff for Atlantis," O'Neill said. "Besides, we're getting off point, which is that you guys almost blew me and my men up."

"I thought we were done with that," Mckay said with genuine bewilderment. "I explained what happened. It was an accident. I'll yell at everyone once you leave, put Riley on notice, and put more safety protocols into place to prevent it from ever happening again. Now, are you going to put forth my name or not? Come on, Jack, if nothing else, it will get me off the planet and out of your hair. That has to be an incentive for you." Mckay smiled up at him winningly.

O'Neill looked at her incredulously for a moment. Throwing up his hands, he began to laugh. "Fine. No promises, but yes, I am suggesting you for the position, Mckay. I got SG-1 to help suggest names for the command staff and they put you first on the list for sciences, which just goes to show that Carter doesn't hate you after all," Mckay smiled smugly, only to scowl as he continued, "or she had the bright idea to get rid of you off-planet first. The IOA's probably going to have a heart attack, but I'm trying to put the most qualified people in charge of our efforts in Pegasus."

"Thank you," Mckay said with complete sincerity.

Sheppard accepted that he was doomed. He wasn't happy about it though. He wanted to know what was going on, starting with what special "ancient" gene he had that somehow let him interact with the strange bracelet and continuing with whatever Atlantis was and why Rome wanted to go there.

O'Neill looked over at John's set features and inclined his head before turning back to Mckay. "I'll have someone read in Sheppard. I'm picking up my new aide-de-camp around here somewhere. There's also supposed to be some contraband Heineken hiding in an office for me. I need the liquid courage before I present people like you to the IOA, even if I'll be sober by the time I get there," O'Neill drawled.

"Then why even bother drinking it?" Mckay asked, wrinkling her nose. "If you're looking for a warm memory, why choose a bathwater beer like Heineken? It's the Budweiser of Europe. At least drink a Canadian Molson."

The General pointed a finger at her, "I'm not a Canadian like you and I like Heineken. The memory of it will carry me through. But if you annoy me too much, Meredith, I might change my mind about nominating you."

"Fine. For Atlantis, I'll even drink one with you," Mckay said fervently, though her mouth gave a moue of distaste. "But no limes! I'm deathly allergic to citrus."

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "No one puts limes in Heineken—that's a Corona—and you're not invited. Go berate your minions and write up your report on the incident. I need to deal with Graff and the rest of my people. Stay out of trouble and try not to kill anyone."

Turning to John, he said. "Major Sheppard, I want you to stick with SG-15 until I find someone to print off the non-disclosure forms and brief you. Major McLean, keep him out of trouble."

"Yessir," they answered in unison, falling in at O'Neill's heels.

"Or he could stay here and do some more work for a while," Mckay wheedled as she craned her neck after O'Neill and John.

John scowled at her. She blinked at him in confusion and hurt, her smile disappearing. He'd be more sympathetic if he knew for sure whether her interest stemmed from seeing him again for the first time in years or just using his mysterious magic gene for her scientific research. He refused to let her steamroll him into anything until he read the fine print. Not to mention the fact that she'd almost killed him just a few minutes before and that he was still mad at her for abandoning him the second he got married.

He cared for the woman, but sometimes, her self-absorption and cluelessness when it came to people drove him nuts. It would serve her right if he flew off without ever talking to her. All these messy emotions felt horribly uncomfortable.

"Nope," O'Neill answered Mckay's plea, not even bothering to look back as he strode from the room.

Sighing, Mckay met John's eyes. She squared her shoulders. "We'll have to catch up later, deal?"

"Okay." The agreement slipped out without his conscious intention.

Mckay looked so genuinely pleased by his answer that, just like that, John's irritation drained away. He couldn't help but send her a quiet smile. "Catch you later, Rome." The tips of her ears turned pink at the nickname. He'd missed seeing that. He'd missed her. Feeling mixed up, John turned to follow Mclean from the room.

"You not coming?" King asked incredulously, drawing attention to the fact that Sgt. Kindall had lingered in the lab and shuffled closer to Mckay.

"In a minute. I have to ask something," Kindall answered vaguely.

"You found some more stuff?" Mckay whispered loudly as she looked left and right to see who was still around. Kindall winced at her lack of subtlety. If he was peddling black market goods, he could get in real trouble if caught. John hoped they weren't talking about drugs. Rome didn't seem the type, but then again, he hadn't seen her in three years.

Tension ignited at the base of his skull. It was a familiar feeling around Rome. He hadn't missed it.

Tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ears, Mckay beckoned the sergeant towards a private office in the back. "We can talk in here for a minute, Kindall."

"That alright, sir?" Kindall asked McLean, already following her.

Shaking his head disbelievingly, McLean nevertheless waved the sarge off and left the room with the rest of them.

"You ever notice that Kindall's almost the only one who gets his name said right?" King asked as she looked over her shoulder at the lab they'd just left. "I wonder what's going on there."

McLean shrugged sourly. "Kindall's too tight-lipped to share. However," he glanced back at John, "what about you, Sheppard? What's your connection to the infamous Dr. Mckay?"

"We've run into each other a few times," John answered vaguely, looking away. He couldn't help but quote softly, "All roads lead to Rome."

"You know her well enough to give her a nickname, seems like," King prodded.

John shrugged. Feeling a spurt of devilment—and the frustration Rome engendered—John decided to answer. "Professionally she goes by Dr. R.M. Mckay. A few close friends call her Meredith. However, her full name is Rodney Meredith Mckay."

McLean snorted. "Wait, her first name is Rodney? That's a boy's name." His lips twisted with amusement.

John smirked. "Yep, she hates it. That's why she goes by Meredith."

"Then why do you call her Rome?" King asked curiously, her dark ponytail falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side.

John rubbed his face to hide whatever expression his mouth was making as his mind sifted through the memories. Despite himself, he found himself answering. "It's just a nickname I came up with to tease her. 'Ro' from Rodney and 'Me' from Meredith gets you ROME." He shrugged self-consciously, not interested in explaining more to strangers, surprised at himself for even revealing that much. He must be more off center than he thought.

Before he was forced to endure more questions, Kindall caught back up to them in the hall with an Air Force captain in tow. Captain Truesdale turned out to be the general's new aide-de-camp. She immediately started in on logistics for John's debrief and tomorrow's departure, thankfully ending the personal conversation.

Once Sheppard signed the non-disclosure forms, he was passed a laptop and sent a huge digital packet to read through. All thoughts of Mckay disappeared. He spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in files about Stargates, aliens, Ancient genes, and spaceships. John really liked the spaceships. He couldn't wait for a chance to fly one.

_Science fiction was real!_

* * *

AN: Chapters should hopefully come out once a day. I've got all 14 written, I'm just doing some final grammar checks right now.

Casting is as follows—

Dr. Rodney Meredith Mckay / Rome (Kate Winslet)

John Sheppard (Joe Flanigan)

Dr. Troy Forrester / Mckay's ex-husband (Jude Law)

_SG-15_

Major Alex McLean (Vin Diesel)

Sgt. James Kindall (Eric Bana)

Captain Robin King (Lucy Lawless)

Dr. Rigoberto Diaz / anthropologist (Antonio Sabato Jr.)


	3. Chapter 3

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 3**

* * *

"_Italy has changed. But Rome is Rome."_

-ROBERT DE NIRO, American actor

"Truesdale? What did you send to the IOA?" General O'Neill's unhappy voice carried out into the hall where John was about to knock on his office door later that afternoon. John paused, not wanting to walk in in the middle of trouble.

"Sir? I sent the personnel files of the candidates for Atlantis's command staff. It was one of the first things I did this week when I took over as your aide-de-camp. I have confirmation of their receipt," Captain Truesdale said anxiously.

"You sent the files from the 'Final Draft' folder. Did you not even see the _'Final_ Final Draft' folder? Or notice that the personnel profiles you sent for the IOA to look over don't even have headshots and vital statistics?" O'Neill snapped.

John winced.

"I'm very sorry, sir. When you called and told me to send the files, I didn't realize different folders had such similar names," Truesdale apologized miserably. "I didn't really look at the files, just sent them on."

Unexpectedly her tone changed to barely suppressed frustration. "Is there a reason you have your _'Final _Final Draft' folder over in the Pictures directory with your hockey wallpapers? Versus in the Documents folder with the rest of the final drafts and other personnel files up for consideration?"

"I put it there because they aren't drafts anymore and because looking at hockey makes me less cranky," O'Neill explained in a decidedly cranky tone of voice. "I've always done it that way. My last aide-de-camp didn't have a problem with it."

"I'm sure I'll learn your filing system too," Truesdale said bracingly. "Until then, I'll resend the correct documents to the IOA."

"No, don't bother," said O'Neill with a sigh. "The last thing I need is to get the IOA's back up right now with this group of unconventional candidates."

"Yessir. I'm sorry, sir."

After a moment of silence, O'Neill's voice softened. "Look, if you don't understand something I ask you to do, ask for clarification, alright? We'll get used to each other in no time, I'm sure."

"Thank you, General," she said.

"Okay, let's go back to that meeting in DC next month—" O'Neill started.

John decided to take that moment to knock so he wouldn't be caught eavesdropping. A pale-looking Truesdale opened the door. "Major Sheppard here to see you, General."

O'Neill scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair with a creak. "Whaddaya need, Sheppard?"

"I requisitioned a new transport to get you to Washington, but I wasn't sure when you wanted to depart, sir," John said.

Glancing back at his computer, O'Neill grimaced. "I hadn't planned on staying here long, but a few things have come up. Let's set departure for 0800 tomorrow. That should get me there in time for the meeting but too late for any schmoozing. Except," he snapped his fingers and looked up. "Truesdale, schedule me a meeting with Representative Woolsey."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged.

"Sheppard, let my security team know about the delayed departure time and then take the rest of the day for yourself. I'm sure you still have a lot of reading to do. Look at the upcoming mission to Atlantis and decide if that's something you want. You should also know that there's a commendation coming somewhere down the line for your expert flying today. Good job."

Acknowledging John's nod, O'Neill turned back to his computer. "You're dismissed. Truesdale, get that meeting with Woolsey set up and then come back here and explain to me what all these new icons mean. In the future, avoid software updates if you can." He grumbled, "I finally got used to Wordperfect and Windows 98 and they had to get rid of 'em and switch to Word and Windows XP. "

Exiting, John decided against more reading just yet. He needed to process the current load of information about alien races and intergalactic conflicts. People traveled to other worlds through a ring called a Stargate. Aliens had visited Earth both through the Stargate and using their own spaceships. Some of those aliens had tried to conquer the Earth just in the last few years, only to be repelled by the soldiers of Stargate Command. Then there was the fact that the most advanced of the aliens had left behind technology that could only be activated if you had a certain rare gene and it looked like one of his ancestors had gotten frisky with them and passed down that gene to John.

His life was suddenly in flux and he wasn't sure he liked it. There were too many variables. He thought about finding an outdoor track to take a long run under the open sky but wasn't sure he was up for the triple-digit heat. His helo had gotten trashed so he couldn't go out for a flight either. Running his hands through his hair, John didn't know what to do. He needed some kind of constant.

Suddenly it seemed so obvious.

Turning towards the research labs, he went in search of Rome.

The first big lab space John looked in had six scientists. A tall and pale freckled man stood seething in front of a whiteboard covered in crossed-out equations. As John watched, he laboriously rewrote a new string of numbers in between the previous lines.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Dr. Mckay?" John asked.

The tall man looked over his shoulder with a glare. "Can't you tell that Her Highness was just in here?" he gestured sharply at the board full of green scribbles.

Sheppard looked at the numbers again and then gave him a friendly smile. "Do you know where your boss was headed?"

"Probably the DFAC. Eating's the only thing that ever gets her to shut her mouth," he said tightly.

"Thanks," John nodded, dropping the smile and plotting out in his head just how to get to the base dining facility. "Oh, and your new equation's still wrong. You misplaced a parenthesis and ignored both the suggested integer and the inclusion of centrifugal force." A dusky-skinned man piecing together circuits at a nearby table barked with laughter as Sheppard left the doorway and continued on his way.

It was between meals at the DFAC, so the tables were mostly empty. It wasn't hard to find Rome. However, John felt hesitant to move forward and interrupt her.

Mckay sat at a back table with Sgt. Kindall huddled over a laptop and talking intently. In fact, they sat close enough that a lock of Rome's blond hair trailed over Kindall's chest. As John watched, she snapped her fingers decisively and pointed to something on the screen. Kindall shrugged unenthusiastically. Frowning huffily, Rome pulled out a wad of cash from her pocket and shoved it into Kindall's hand, slapping him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes but responded dryly with something that had Rome grinning back crookedly.

"What do you think that's all about?" mused Captain King in his ear, making John jump. He hadn't heard her approach. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Major McLean stepped up on King's other side. "If they're dating, I don't want to know about it. I'd have to question Kindall's mental competence and with evals coming up, that's not doing him any favors."

King smirked. "I think they look very sweet together."

"And I just threw up in my mouth," the major grimaced, wiping a hand over his shaved head.

Feeling a bit sick at the thought himself, John tried to change the subject. "O'Neill's set our departure to 0800 tomorrow."

"Roger that," Major McLean acknowledged. "We'll be there."

"Let's go tell Kindall, shall we?" King said with relish, marching forward to interrupt. John found himself following along with McLean.

Looking up, Rome's eyes widened with dismay. She hastily closed her laptop, hiding the screen seconds before King swung a leg over the chair next to her and dropped down into the seat. "Hey, Doc, Sarge, whatcha up to?" she grinned toothily, glancing back and forth between Kindall and Mckay with a raised brow.

"None of your business," Kindall said easily, though pink tinged the large man's cheeks.

"Not even a hint?" the Amazonian brunette wheedled.

"Do we have a departure time yet?" he asked, ignoring her pushing.

"O800 tomorrow," McLean answered, before shaking his head and leaning a hand on the table. "But no, really, what's up with you being all buddy buddy with Dr. Mckay? I have to ask."

"Is Mr. Clean jealous?" Mckay cooed, fluttering her eyelashes. "If you wanted to date me, the answer's no. I like men with a bit more hair on their head."

"I don't like you, Mckay," McLean said harshly.

Usually, Mckay didn't notice or care about other people's opinions, but occasionally she assumed she was friendly with a person who didn't actually like her. When she realized her error, it hurt her feelings. Then she acted twice as annoying and prickly.

The corners of Rome's eyes tightened. She fidgeted with her laptop. "If it bothers you that much, you could just wear a wig. I've heard they're very affordable, even with a small salary like yours."

"I think you'd look very good in braids, sir," King said mock-earnestly, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands.

"Are we talking corn-rows or more Pocahontas?" Kindall asked her, straight-faced.

McLean shook his head and sighed, dropping down into a seat. "I'm no Indian Princess. At least give me Chief Sitting Bull."

"Done," Kindall said with a twitch of his lips. McLean rolled his eyes.

Looking behind them, Mckay asked, "Hey, where's Dr. Dimples-McSmiles-a-lot?"

"You mean Dr. Diaz? Rigo's at a conference," King said. She pointed at an abandoned plate. "Hey, is anyone going to finish those grapes?"

"Be my guest," Kindall waved.

"What about the other one? With the tattoo and the gun?" Mckay gestured vaguely.

"'Cause that's a helpful description in a place like this," McLean said.

Mckay frowned at him. "You know who I mean, the fifth man on your team. That other Marine."

"We've been short a man for over three months. You're just now noticing?" Kindall asked, putting his head in his hands and shaking it.

Shrugging, Mckay put her laptop in its case. "Obviously he wasn't worth remembering since he's gone now. It's not like I forgot you, Kindall."

Popping a grape in her mouth, King asked, "Speaking of which, how did you two become friends? Was it when the sarge rescued Mckay last year?"

"You told them about that?" Mckay asked Kindall, puffing up in her seat.

"Just that I'd gotten injured trying to rescue you and we had to evac on our own," he said, waiting a beat before adding, "I didn't think they needed to know about your inability to harmonize on 80s power ballads."

Mckay pointed a finger defensively. "It doesn't count if the band isn't in-tune to begin with! Who can even respect those hair bands? I bet even the major would agree with me on that," she gestured at McLean, who nodded reluctantly.

Before John could open his mouth, Rome pointed a finger at him without even looking over. "No. If you have a deep and abiding love for Poison Sister that has managed to stay a secret all these years, it deserves to stay a mystery."

Lips twitching, John asked, "Like Dio's Mystery?"

Kindall snorted with amusement as King patted John's shoulder consolingly. "Just like Mckay, _Every Rose Has Its Thorn_ and _We're Not Gonna Take It_."

"I don't know what that means and I don't want to know," Mckay crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

"If you really want to get her going, try _Sweet Child of Mine_. I've never seen anyone react so badly to Guns 'N Roses," Kindall said.

Mckay twitched and dropped her eyes.

"So you're not going to quit science to go on a singing tour with the sarge? I thought you were good at everything, Mckay," John teased.

"Everything worth doing," Mckay responded with brittle haughtiness. Something was off, but John didn't know what. A lot could happen in three years. In his case, a lot certainly had.

A captain with engineering insignia stepped up to the table, interrupting the banter. "Excuse me, Dr. Mckay. Are these men bothering you?" He gave Mckay a sultry look. His dark hair looked eerily similar to John's not-quite-regulation locks, though he obviously took more pains to tame them. John hated him at first sight.

Mckay's eyes skimmed over him as she went to steal a grape from King's plate, popping it into her mouth. "No, Sewer, at least not with anything but their musical preferences. Why?"

"It's Captain _Seward_, Doctor, from life support for the BC-304? We met this morning when you came over and fixed our problem. You were really amazing." Mckay puffed up in her seat and gave him more of her attention. "You looked a little unhappy over here, so I just wanted to make sure everything was on the up-and-up in case you needed rescuing." He leaned a hand on the table and sent her a smile, bringing into prominence the white scar cutting through his upper lip.

Mckay blinked at him and tilted her head. "I don't have a problem making my feelings known. If I was unhappy, I'd rescue myself."

"Of course you would," Seward said patronizingly, "but if that changes, I'll be having a snack for the next few minutes on the other side of the mess. You're welcome to join me. We could continue our discussion from this morning."

"Okay," she said, distracted by King moving the plate of grapes out of her reach, causing her fingers to close on empty air. The two women frowned at each other.

After waiting a moment for something more from Mckay, Seward finally left.

King stuffed the last three grapes in her mouth and sent the empty plate spinning back to Mckay, who pushed it away with annoyance. "So that was interesting. He totally wants you," King said.

"Huh?" Mckay turned to watch the man sit down at his table, staring obviously until he looked up and smiled. "You think? I'm terrible at picking that stuff up."

"Oh yeah," King confirmed. "That whole protective thing was just an excuse to come over here and talk to you. He's cute but obviously doesn't know you very well outside of your title and bleached blond hair. Good luck keeping him once that happens."

Turning back, Mckay's flattered expression turned sour. "It's not bleached, you jealous harpy. Besides, obviously a man of intelligence would be drawn to a woman as incredibly smart and _naturally_ attractive as me. I should have seen it coming, really. He probably came into the room and felt threatened by the special bond between Kindall and me."

"Excuse me?" Kindall looked at her askance. "There's never been anything romantic between us, Mckay."

"Ew, no, of course not," she flapped her hand. "I'm talking about how I saved your life."

"I saved yours first." Kindall put his elbow on the table and leaned forward.

"I saved your life," Mckay repeated louder, slapping her hand on the table, "and I kept you alive for two days in a deadly jungle."

"Oh really? That's not exactly how I remember it," Kindall objected.

Ignoring him, she turned to the rest of the table to boast, "He would've died without me! We had to drink from shallow, disgusting streams with only my tampons as water filters."

Turning scarlet, a mortified Kindall dropped his face into his hands as the table erupted into raucous laughter. Mckay just talked louder. "If I hadn't been about to start my period and loaded for bear, we would've died after drinking infected water! Some parasite would've burst out of our chests like xenomorphs in _Alien_. We became sisters-in-arms! I haven't gone off-world without tucking tampons in with my Powerbars and spare laptop batteries ever since."

"Why not just take actual water filters and purification tablets?" King asked with amusement. "The cotton in the tampons only filters out sediment and particulates."

"Oh no no no, this is so much better," McLean chortled.

Eyes twinkling, King tried to keep a straight face. "I understand, Sarge. I'll get extra tampons just for you on our next mission."

Lifting his head from his hands, Kindall gave Mckay a betrayed look. "Thanks for that, Mckay. Thanks so much. Now I'll never live this down."

"Don't worry, Sergeant. We won't bring it up. Well, not unless it's your time of the month," McLean said with a straight face before breaking into guffaws, sending the rest of the table into stitches.

"I was just telling them the truth," Mckay said beneath the laughter, sending Kindall an awkward smile.

Rubbing his face, Kindall sighed and returned her smile. "Well, if I have to be sister-in-arms with somebody, better a certified genius than an unscrupulous card-shark like King over there. Last poker night, we were supposed to team up against the rest of the table and then she turned around and took my pot along with everyone else's."

"Hey, even the Pope couldn't resist using a hand like that!" King argued unrepentantly.

Rome gave a crooked smile and looked over at John. "You should team up with Sheppard. I know he looks kind of dumb, but under all that hair he's actually pretty smart. Card counting is child's play for him. Didn't you win a Wonder Woman-themed Lamborghini once?"

Memory bloomed, making John smile unexpectedly. "Good Ol' Diana. I won her and the General Lee off some rich car collector and TV nut when he tried to fleece my buddy on shore leave. In a moment of insanity, I gave them to my brother when I last re-upped. I hope he's taking good care of them."

"I'd love to drive the General Lee if he ever wants to get rid of it," Kindall wheedled.

"What? I'd choose Wonder Woman over the Dukes of Hazzard any day of the week," King protested, picking up the empty plate and standing. "I've got a few things to do, so I'll catch the rest of you later."

As everyone else got up to leave, a passing marine major did a double-take and stopped hesitantly. "Sergeant Kindall?" The man had east-Asian features and knobby scars where the cartilage of his left ear should be.

"Yes?" Kindall looked over, good cheer still lighting his face.

"Are you by chance related to Master Sergeant Michelle Kindall?"

Kindall hesitated for a moment before answering, "My older sister."

"That's great," the marine major smiled and rubbed the scar around his ear. "Can I get her contact info? I just came back after a long leave and all my old acquaintances have been reassigned. The name's Daniel Kim. She might've mentioned me a few times, but if the stories are embarrassing they're totally not true." He flashed a grin.

Kindall's face went tight and his eyes sad. John got a bad feeling, which was born out when Kindall answered. "I'm sorry to tell you that Michelle was lost in the Battle of Antarctica."

"Oh man, no," Major Kim said, looking away and swallowing hard. He ran a hand over his head. "I'd be dead twice over if it wasn't for Top Kindall. She's a legend. My wife insisted on naming our first girl after Michelle and I wanted to let her know about the baby."

Sgt. Kindall cleared his throat. "She'd have loved that. Thank you. It means a lot, especially now."

"How are Greg and little Maddie?" Major Kim asked, voice rough.

"Hanging in there. I'll make sure to tell them about the baby. It'll make Maddie feel like she has a little sister out there somewhere," Kindall said

"They're welcome to come and see my little Michelle any time. My wife would love the visitors," Kim said. "Hey, you wanna take a walk? I can tell you about how kick-ass your sister was, how I lost my ear but not my life because of her, and even show you some baby pics of her namesake." He shoved his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. "But no pressure."

Kindall said softly, "I'd like that."

"Just be outside tomorrow at 0800, Sergeant," McLean reminded him sympathetically.

"Yes, sir." Kindall nodded and followed Major Kim out of the room.

McLean took off in the opposite direction, leaving Mckay alone with John.

Fiddling with the strap of her laptop bag, Mckay looked over John. "I've got to get back to work—they can't survive for long without me—but I can probably take off early around 1800. You want to get dinner and catch up?"

"Sure," John nodded with forced casualness, hoping she couldn't see the uptick of his heartbeat at her invitation. He'd always liked hanging out with Rome, but this time felt different. The space between them felt full of potential energy, the forced separation making him see her differently. Of course, he'd yet to hear her explanation for why she'd left him high and dry. "See you then."

Returning to the small desk assigned to him, John continued reading mission files about aliens and battles on distant planets and places a lot closer to home. About twenty minutes in a note popped up on the screen with the mission numbers reorganized by relevance instead of date. Everything to do with Ancient technology had been pushed to the top. Mckay had prioritized the rest based on her personal research interests. Shaking his head, he nevertheless followed the new organization, not having a good reason not to.

She rewarded him an hour later by sending him an amended list with a few missions added at the very bottom that related to the discovery of alien aircraft. He switched those to the top and continued reading. The thought of flying an alien spacecraft made him feel dreamy. Maybe change would be a good thing after all.

That evening, John joined Mckay for dinner at a nearby diner. She chose it, she said, based on the Yelp reviews mentioning gourmet ice cream sandwiches. Talk stayed light and teasing and the food tasted as good as advertised. Afterward, they retired back to her quarters on base to watch a show on her laptop. Just like always, they'd fallen into an easy banter, as if they'd hung out only yesterday instead of over three years ago.

"Find something in the media folder for us to watch while I make myself some peppermint dark cocoa," Rome ordered.

"We just had ice cream and it's the middle of summer. Do we really need more sweets?" John teased, plopping down on the couch and scrolling through her media files.

"Yes! Besides, I didn't offer you any. This is all for me. I've spent a lot of time in subzero locations in the last few years _AND_ I did my duty this week and visited my sister. Last time I went two years ago, I stayed for a month and almost ended up actually liking her husband the English Major."

Reading between the lines, John frowned. "What was so bad that you retreated to Jean's house for that long?"

Rome turned away to pull out her decadent cocoa, hiding her expression. "Just stuff. Luckily I came to my senses about the English Major who ruined my sister's life. As for the cocoa, don't even try to deny me my comforts," Mckay grumbled as she plugged in her hotpot.

Before John could think of a good comeback, he got distracted by the media options on her laptop. "Wow, I remember us watching half of these in dinky TV lounges in Alaska, Utah, and the South Pacific. I can understand _Star Trek,_ _Babylon 5_ and the _X-Files_, but I remember you thinking that _Alien Nation _and _Earth 2_ were populated by idiots. You absolutely loathed it when I made you watch _Space: Above and Beyond._"

"It's not like I watch them myself." Mckay crossed her arms defensively. "They were just up for grabs and I knew that you liked them. I'll probably delete them next time my hard drive gets low on space."

Avoiding his smirk, Rome snatched up her mug, dumped in the cocoa, and poured steaming water on top. "If you don't like the stuff on there, I think they're showing _The Day After Tomorrow_ in the base cinema. As long as you don't mind me loudly ripping their flimsy 'science,'" she did air quotes, "to shreds, we could check it out."

As Rome slurped carefully at her steaming cocoa, John's mind turned back to something that had been niggling at him all day. "Speaking of cold places, did you get O'Neill to transfer me from Antarctica?"

In the middle of opening a small box of gourmet marshmallows, Rome absently replied, "You were miserable and masochistic down there. For all I knew you'd start cutting yourself and no one would even notice. I had to do some...thing…." She looked up and winced.

"Um—I mean—you were in Antarctica? What a coincidence, so was I! There's a whole Ancient outpost buried under the ice and still operational after millennia. Have you read about that yet? It's fascinating. I can't wait to get you down there and into the control chair. I bet you could make that place roll over and beg. There are so many things I wan—"

"Rome," John cut her off. "Did you hack the American military's database and place a tracker on my records?"

Folding her arms, she firmed her lips belligerently. "Maybe, not that it was difficult," she muttered.

"How long ago?" he demanded.

"A few years..." she said vaguely, not meeting his eyes as she picked up the box of marshmallows again.

John's head spun with calculations. "Was it when I bumped into you in Siberia?"

Rome shrugged and stuffed a handful of square marshmallows into her mouth.

"Earlier? Alaska? Omelek Island? That thing in Europe?"

Each time she shook her head slightly and kept her mouth busy chewing. Finally, John asked with bewilderment, "Utah?"

Rome's shoulders rose up to her ears and she shoveled the last few marshmallows into her bulging cheeks.

John sat back in his seat, stunned. "All the way back then, when we first met? Why? You barely even liked me then. You went to all the effort of keeping track of me but wouldn't even come to my wedding? Even though I asked you to be my best woman? What the hell, Mckay!?"

Meeting his eyes irately, she swallowed and wiped her mouth. "Don't you dare! First off, I didn't come to your wedding because Nancy and your father _un_invited me. Then Nancy went behind my back to cancel all of my reservations and every room in town was booked up because of those stupid playoffs. Despite my bad opinion of the woman, you insisted on marrying her. You snapped at me whenever I criticized her and criticism is my main mode of communication!" She arched her hands through the air and John felt a burn of guilt as he thought back to that time period and all the signs he'd missed.

Not picking up on his thoughts, Mckay pointed a finger accusingly. "I tried to tell you and you called me bitter and jealous. As if a woman as amazing as me would ever be jealous! Soon you became too busy to talk every time I called. I know I'm not great about social cues, but you're one of the most important people in my life, John. I didn't want to lose you completely and that seemed like a pretty clear message that if I forced you to choose, you wouldn't have chosen me." Crumpling the box in her hands, she added, "Not that keeping quiet did me much good in the end."

John winced, reduced to feeling like pond scum. He'd been such a self-centered idiot. If he could, he'd go back in time and smack some sense into his younger self.

Mouth twisting crookedly, Mckay tossed the box into the trash. "I was trying to make things easier for you, so I signed up for a top-secret project in Europe. If I'd known you'd overwork yourself and divorce Nancy a couple of years later, I wouldn't have bothered exercising restraint. That project was the worst decision I ever made. I ran into Troy Forrester again and in a low moment allowed him to sweet talk me into marrying him and getting him a job with Stargate Command. We divorced six months later, but the only way to truly escape him now is in another galaxy."

John grimaced. The less said about Dr. Troy Forrester the better. He'd hated that supercilious slop bucket from the first moment their eyes met over Rome's oblivious head. John couldn't believe she'd married Forrester, but at least she'd come to her senses and gotten divorced quickly. He was glad he hadn't been forced to see Rome in love with another man—especially one like Forrester—but he wished he could've been there to help with the fallout.

"Not that I want to go to Pegasus because of him," Rome said. "I want to go because there's nowhere better to learn more information about Ancient technology than Atlantis. I need more information to figure it all out. Then I can make something even better for Earth, complete my Unification Theory, and finally get the recognition I deserve along with the Nobel Prize, Fields Medal, and Abel Prize.

"The IOA Committee loves Elizabeth Weir—Doctorate in Poli Sci and Diplomat—so she's probably a shoo-in for command, but despite my qualifications, they might balk at sending someone as useful as me off-planet on a potentially one-way trip. However, my genius, body of work, and eagerness to go should tip the balance." She didn't look as confident as she tried to sound. The more uncertain Mckay felt about something, the more she tended to brag to make herself feel better. Institutions often found her useful, but they rarely liked her, not willing to spend the time to see past the prickly exterior.

"I'm sorry Nancy and my father did that," John forced himself to apologize, keeping his eyes trained on a stain on the wall. "And I'm sorry I did that. I should've listened to you, but I was too caught up in finally earning my father's approval. He'd just barely started talking to me again for the first time in over a decade and then he introduced me to Nancy."

John looked sideways and sent Rome a bitter smile. "I liked and respected Nancy, but I loved the idea of having something my dad approved of more than the woman herself. Nancy sensed that and it ate away at her. We both knew the wedding was a mistake within the first few months. I was bad for her and Nancy let herself become jealous, insecure, and petty. It definitely taught me that marriage isn't for me."

Looking down, John circled his knees with his thumbs. "She even joined up with my father to try and get me to quit the Air Force. I responded by volunteering for every mission that came my way, which just made her more unhappy. My father tried to call me out on being a bad husband—which I was—but then he started tearing into my military service, which led to another screaming match where I turned into a teenager and said the most hurtful things I could think of instead of acting like a mature and rational adult."

John fisted his hands and glared at the crappy beige carpet. "I was angry and tired of having the same old arguments all over again, of never being good enough. I tried to call him a few days later once I calmed down, but he basically cut me off with an ultimatum: either quit the Air Force and join the family company or be disowned again. Needless to say, I don't take ultimatums well. My divorce to Nancy only took so long because I wasn't around long enough to sign the paperwork."

Rome thunked her mug onto the counter. "Your dad sucks. He's repeatedly tried to get me to consult with his R&D department over the last year, but I won't even respond to his letters. Admittedly, if I needed something from him I might go, but I'd really make him pay for it."

Leaning against the counter, Rome sniffed. "Also, I'm not going to say I didn't get my revenge on Nancy after you signed the divorce papers, but that's between me and my very untroubled conscience."

Rome threw back the thick dregs of her hot chocolate like a shot of whiskey. "As for my life, I already mentioned that I divorced Troy a couple of years ago." Licking the smudge of chocolate off her lip, she added, "Unfortunately, the bastard's still alive and well. I've considered throwing money at someone to fix that problem, but he's become the second best expert on Ancient technology that the SGC has in the fight to protect Earth and I've been told that we need him. Not the first, though," she looked up fiercely, eyes glittering, "never the first. No matter what underhanded tricks he pulls, he'll _never _reach my level of genius."

Face cold, Mckay put her mug in the sink and washed it with quick, economical movements. "I'm only in Nevada this week instead of Antarctica because he wanted to run some experiments and it's in my contract that they can't make us work together. He's better at schmoozing than I am, so he convinced General Landry to switch us out since I'm in-between big projects. I'm assigned to Cheyenne Mountain starting tomorrow. Make sure O'Neill assigns you there too or else I'll hunt you down." She pointed a soapy finger at him.

"I don't have much control over my posting," John said wryly. At her fierce glare, his face softened. "But I'll see what I can do."

Turning back to the computer, John said, "Now enough of this emotional crap; I'm breaking out in hives. Did you hear that they're rebooting _Doctor Who_ next year?"

Rome shrugged, drying her hands on a towel and plopping down next to him on the couch with an extra laptop so she could still work while they watched. "I'm cautiously excited, but reboots are often underwhelming. Which Doctor should we watch?"

"What a stupid question. Tom Baker, of course," John replied. Nodding at each other agreeably, they settled down and started the opening sequence of the show.

And if John took comfort from the warmth of Rome's leg pressed against his, if her quick grins made his stomach flutter, and if his thoughts strayed to the realization that they were both finally single at the same time and bound for the same posting, well, there was no harm in dreaming. For over a third of his life, this woman had been his touchstone. No one could make him laugh as hard or aggravate him so quickly. She was irritating and delightful, fragile and strong.

Although John loved Rome as he'd never loved anyone else, they'd never pushed beyond friendship. He had to be sure before he went and changed the status quo. Change was dangerous. He didn't want to break her heart, but he also didn't want Rome to callously break his and she could. The consequences were too big to wing it. Would having more be worth the risk of losing it all? Unable to make sense of the merry-go-round of his thoughts, John turned his attention firmly back to the Doctor with the long scarf.

The next morning, John had a new aircraft ready for takeoff at 0650. SG-15 had all boarded by 0740 and General O'Neill and Captain Truesdale got there at exactly 0755. Taking their promptness as a good omen, he took off for Bolling AFB in Washington D.C. The weather cooperated and he got them there in time for an early dinner, should they be so inclined. This time, the flight included no surprises.

Before stepping off, O'Neill turned to John. "I have meetings all week, but if we need to leave early, Captain Truesdale will notify you. In the meantime, focus on getting up-to-date with the mission logs and making a choice about Atlantis."

"Yessir!" Sheppard saluted.

SG-15 said their farewells and followed the general to a waiting van. John didn't envy them the guard duty. Standing outside a closed door for days on end was mind-numbingly dull. To be honest, he was looking forward to his homework on alien worlds.

With an unusual spring in his step, he grabbed his duffel and left the tarmac.

* * *

AN: A Master Sergeant in the Marines is sometimes informally called, "Top."

Cast—

Dr. Rodney Meredith Mckay (Kate Winslet)

John Sheppard (Joe Flanigan)

Capt. Harrison Seward (Joaquin Phoenix)

Dr. Troy Forrester (Jude Law)

Sgt. James Kindall (Eric Bana)

Major Alex McLean (Vin Diesel)

Captain Robin King (Lucy Lawless)

Dr. Rigoberto Diaz (Antonio Sabato Jr.)


	4. Chapter 4

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 4**

* * *

"_How is it possible to say an unkind or irreverential word of Rome? The city of all time, and of all the world!" _

-NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, American novelist

"Dr. Mckay, it is time for our meeting."

Mckay jerked, dropping her green pen. She'd been so deep in thought at the whiteboard—writing equations and schematics for rearranging an alien pump system to work within the limits of Earth machinery—that she hadn't noticed Dr. Miko Kusanagi standing next to her until she spoke. "What?" Mckay blinked rapidly and dragged her mind to the present. "Meeting? I don't remember a meeting. If you have a question, Kusanagi, just ask so I can get back to this."

Eyes shifting uneasily behind her glasses, Miko crossed her arms and leaned forward to speak softly. "We need to have a private meeting, Dr. Mckay. It can't wait. You must come now." She bit her lip and widened her eyes, trying to convey something that Meredith just wasn't getting.

"Are you sure we have a meeting? Because if this is just you trying to get out of being publicly humiliated for a dumb idea, it's not going to work." Remembering that Miko was perhaps one of the best computer programmers on the planet, a gifted engineer, and the closest thing Mckay had to a friend the last few years, Mckay made sure to quickly add, "Not that you're dumb. You're very smart for someone with only two doctorates." Sending Miko an encouraging nod, Meredith turned back to the whiteboard and then looked down at the floor for her missing green marker.

Miko quietly cleared her throat. "Dr. Mckay? Meredith—" Mckay grabbed her green marker and looked up "—you will want to see this but it has to be now." Miko wrung her hands.

Blowing out a breath, Meredith capped her green marker and put it safely in her chest pocket. "Alright, I'm coming, but this had better be important."

Mckay looked around the room until she found the face she wanted. "Hey, Zardok, you're in charge until I come back. Make sure the experiment in lab three doesn't blow up while I'm gone and that no one touches my whiteboard." The Czech guy with the crazy hair had impressed her so far. They hadn't worked together before, but he was one of the most senior scientists here at Cheyenne Mountain and vocal about wanting to go to Atlantis, which showed good strength of character.

Instead of being pleased by her attention, his lips pursed with annoyance. "My name is Dr. Zalenka. Again. And I'm already monitoring lab three in the corner of my screen."

"Great," Mckay said, glancing at his work screen as she followed Miko out of the room. "Oh, you should switch the polarity on the second quadrant and reroute the exhaust on that if you want to improve efficiency by 23%, Dr. Zar—Zal—whatever."

Grinding his teeth at the mangling of his name—though it wasn't as if it was something common and easy to remember—he looked at his screen and blinked, expression falling into thought. "Fine. Is good idea, but will only improve by 18% not 23%. You missed wiring in quadrant one."

"What?! Where?" Turning on her heel, Mckay marched back over to his computer for a better look. Miko huffed (her shriek of irritation) and walked firmly (a stomp on anyone else) over to the doorway to wait.

"There," he said pointing to the wiring Mckay had initially dismissed.

"Huh," Mckay said. He was right. "I suppose so," she grumbled. She hated being wrong. "Obviously you deserve to be here, unlike most of the other monkeys. Why don't you keep an eye on the stuff being built in labs four and six too? They seem like the type to get inventive without checking their numbers first."

"Very well, now go away." He shooed her away from his keyboard, which she'd been reaching for. She only wanted to input a few minor changes. His current work looked interesting. She tried intimidating him with a look, but he ignored her.

Lips pursing, Meredith finally joined Miko, who hustled Meredith down the hall into her private office and closed and locked the door. "So what's so urgent?" Meredith asked.

Miko met Meredith's eyes, no longer quite so meek now that they weren't in public. "I was running some security updates for the IOA and stopped a hacker in the middle of stealing recordings of recent IOA meetings. Before I finish cleaning up his tracks, I thought you might like to… observe privately—as my boss—like a performance evaluation proving my effectiveness—the IOA meeting to decide the leadership candidates for Atlantis. I only have a small window of time before the new security program I input logs that the file is being accessed from my workstation. I will, of course, destroy the file afterward. If you are too busy, I will of course understand and check them privately myself before deleting the file." Miko tapped her finger on the metal monstrosity of a desk that they'd given her.

"No no, we definitely need to do your performance evaluation immediately. You are a genius and I should listen to you more often," Meredith said quickly, her heart jumping in her chest with anticipation. "_Thank you_."

Miko sent her a little smile. "I must confess that I am very curious to know what the IOA have planned for us scientists," she said with a twinkle in her eye. She went around her desk and logged into her computer. Meredith dragged up an ugly maroon chair as Miko's fingers flew across the keyboard, setting up extra security alerts and privacy programs.

They could get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out, but at least Miko already had their excuses lined up. Earlier that week, Meredith had tried to get access to the video file but been stopped by cybersecurity. Meredith hadn't wanted to risk getting caught when the stakes were so high, so she'd backed off.

Despite having confidence in her genius, Meredith couldn't help but tap her finger on her leg nervously. She didn't have a good history of being picked first for a team, a history that went all the way back to childhood. She tested very well but often bombed interviews. However, she knew she looked good on paper. The fact of her accomplishments was written out in black and white. Meredith was more than qualified for the job of lead scientist for Atlantis. She—Dr. R.M. Mckay—was the obvious and most logical best choice.

They had to see that, didn't they?

The video started with Chairman Strom, USA, bringing the meeting to order with boring formality. The members of the IOA sat around a large table in a room rich with oak paneling and sumptuous curtains. Their assistants, along with General O'Neill and his new aid, sat in chairs against the wall.

Miko chewed on her bottom lip. "Considering the extensive diversity of the human race and that this is supposedly an international body, I find it disheartening that the only person in the room that's not a white man is China's Shen Xiaoyi."

Meredith felt a bit disheartened herself. Having a single female voice wasn't very encouraging. "Yeah, we're not represented at all. They don't even have a Canadian or Japanese Representative on there." Miko nodded glumly as Meredith straightened in her seat and pointed. "I looked them all up, actually. There's Chairman Strom and Woolsey—fussy bald guy in glasses—for the US, Colonel Chekov in uniform for Russia, Chapman—white haired and snooty—for Britain, LaPierre—strangely fluffy reddish brown hair—for France, and Shen Xiaoyi—the lone woman, degree in Economics and Poli Sci—for China."

Leaning forward, Miko turned up the volume. "Here, they're finally starting."

Chairman Strom folded his arms on the table. "By now, everyone should've reviewed the personnel files submitted by General O'Neill. To recap, we have deciphered the gate address to Atlantis, which is in the Pegasus Galaxy. At our last meeting, we approved the funding to send an Atlantis expedition. They will look for technology left behind by the Ancients, especially anything that might be used in our current defense of Earth. We are here to evaluate the command staff submitted by General O'Neill for the Atlantis expedition: namely an Expedition Leader, a Military Commander, and a Chief Science and Research Officer."

"I still think the Expedition Leader should have a military background," interjected Colonel Chekov.

Britain's Chapman sighed loudly with annoyance as Strom answered, "Noted, but that argument was tabled. The rest of the committee has voted for a civilian to help balance some of the excesses and recklessness previously exhibited by Stargate Command."

Jack scowled in his chair against the wall, probably because most of the actions they so disapproved of were things he'd had a direct hand in. Everyone made a point of not looking in his direction.

"Since you brought it up, let's start with the position of Expedition Leader," Chairman Strom suggested.

"I think Dr. Elizabeth Weir is an excellent choice," Woolsey said, just as Meredith had expected. "Most of us are already familiar with her and her work. Her negotiating skills would be a great asset in dealing with new cultures, not to mention the inevitable scuffles between the military and civilian agendas."

"I concur," LaPierre of France chimed in, his fluffy hair bouncing as he nodded. "Dr. Weir has an adroitness that is sorely lacking in the current program. Additionally, I believe that she would be respectful and receptive to the IOA's directives for steering the program to success."

"But what if the worst occurs and the expedition is cut off from Earth with hostile enemies on every side?" Colonel Chekov said. "Do we really want a female civilian calling the shots?"

"Well, we all already know what an American Military-dominated program looks like," Xiaoyi said disapprovingly. "It's why the IOA was formed. We may be new, but we should know better than to repeat the mistakes of the past."

"Which is why the IOA has insisted on a civilian Expedition Leader for Atlantis," Chairman Strom answered with a cool smile.

"And why Dr. Weir would be the best choice," Woolsey added firmly.

Meredition crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. "Not only does Weir have a great record, but she's also American. There's no way Strom and Woolsey will let the leadership go to anyone international, not that I want the Russians or the Chinese in charge. That way lies domestic weapons development and a recipe for WWIII."

"Most of the protests to Dr. Weir seem to be mere formalities at this point except for Colonel Chekov," Miko said.

After a relatively civil discussion, the committee voted to preliminarily approve Dr. Elizabeth Weir as Expedition Leader pending an additional psychological profile, background screening, and personal interview by the IOA committee.

Flipping over to a new page on his agenda, Chairman Strom cleared his throat. "Let's move on to the position of Chief Science Officer."

"Finally! Turn it up," Mckay said, leaning forward as Miko raised the volume.

Chairman Strom said, "General O'Neill has proposed Dr. R.M. Mckay for the position."

"Yes!" Meredith pumped her fist in the air in victory.

"—I find it reasonable that our leading expert on Ancient technology to go to Pegasus, home of the Ancients," Strom finished.

"While I haven't personally met Dr. R.M. Mckay, I've seen his name on numerous reports." France's LaPierre tapped the folder sitting in front of him in emphasis.

Meredith's smug grin froze on her face. "Wait, did he just say '_his'_ name?"

"Surely they must know you're female. Don't personnel files all include headshots?" Miko asked.

"Yeah, I don't photograph well, but I wouldn't say I look manly," Meredith grumbled softly, not wanting to miss what was being said.

Chapman, the British rep, cleared his throat. "Although undeniably a genius, Mckay's people skills can be lacking," he pointed out. "A subordinate with better social acumen might be a better choice. Dr. Troy Forrester, for instance."

"That bastard," Meredith growled, fist clenching on her thigh, angry all over again that she'd ever trusted Troy enough to get him hired and marry him.

"You're only suggesting Dr. Forrester because he's British. Doctor Mckay is Canadian—a good balance to Weir—and successfully spearheads the Ancient Research Division here on Earth," Woolsey argued, looking at Chapman disapprovingly over the top of his glasses. "She obviously knows how to get the job done. With Mckay in charge of the sciences in Atlantis, turnaround on useful technology coming back to Earth would be shorter. Dr. Mckay has also been in the program a lot longer than Dr. Forrester. I don't think we'd get any unexpected surprises on the personality front. Although arrogant, Mckay cooperates with authority and performs well under pressure."

Meredith's lips tightened. "I'm not arrogant, I'm confident."

Leaning forward, Colonel Chekov knocked on the table. "I haven't met Dr. Mckay, but I've heard rumors that he pushes his people too hard and isn't well-liked as a leader. That could be dangerous in an alien environment like Atlantis that offers no way to escape the situation."

"People like me," Mckay protested, "and I get results, which are what you all really care about anyway."

Chairman Strom straightened the papers in front of him. "I would think staffing Atlantis would be similar in some ways to staffing a submarine, where you're stuck with a small group of people in a limited space for a long period of time. I would think the psychological exams would weed out most of the personalities who'd do poorly in that type of environment," he said. "Hasn't Mckay passed all of his evaluations while working for the US government? Obviously, we'd have to rigorously evaluate Mckay's mental fitness once again if he's chosen, but being a strict taskmaster might be an asset in a posting like this."

Miko winced. "They said 'he' again."

"I know," Meredith tried not to moan, anxious and frustrated.

Woolsey tapped the file in front of him. "I don't think I could overstate the value of Dr. Mckay to the Stargate program. She's been primarily responsible for almost half of the technological innovations on the next generation stardrives. I heard that it's become something of a competition between Drs. Mckay and Carter to create the next best design."

Before Meredith could relax at the praise, Colonel Chekov shook his head. "All the more reason to keep Mckay on Earth. If the expedition is lost, our ability to adapt alien technology for our uses will slow down. I don't need to remind this committee that many of the alien races we've encountered are more technologically advanced than we are. Defending the Earth must always be our first priority. There are several great Russian scientists that could be counted on instead of this man to bring back the secrets of the Ancients for us. "

"We don't need soviet scientists when we already have Dr. Forrester in the running," Chapman said with annoyance.

Mckay wanted to reach through the screen and shove her green marker down both their throats.

Delicately clearing her throat, Xiaoyi tilted her head. "Excuse me, but I find myself confused. Isn't Dr. Rodney Mckay female? Yet several of you have referred to the doctor as 'he.'"

"Yes, thank you!" Meredith said, slapping the desk.

Heads swiveled up and down the table as people began flipping through their files with growing frowns. "Uh oh, that doesn't look good," Miko said, biting her thumbnail.

Mr. Woolsey steepled his hands. "Dr. Rodney Meredith Mckay is indeed female. Professionally she goes by Dr. R.M. Mckay."

"Two women in charge? Is that really a good idea?" Chairman Strom said to Woolsey, flipping through his notes.

Snorting in agreement, Colonel Chekov crossed his arms. "This is foolishness, especially with so many male soldiers and scientists on the expedition. Being led by two women could lead to mutiny if they find themselves under attack and unable to contact Earth for resupply or reinforcements. We need logic and duty, not emotional reactions when it comes time to make the hard choices."

"I do not like your implication, Colonel," Xiaoyi interjected. "Women can be just as logical and dutiful as men. Indeed, there is nothing inherently superior in a man versus a woman when it comes to great leadership."

After a moment of awkward silence, Chapman said smoothly, "I'm sure my colleague from Russia meant no disrespect to the female gender."

"Perhaps," LaPierre said, flipping rapidly through a new file, "Colonel Sumner could balance out having two women on the command staff? According to this record, he's very no-nonsense and by-the-book and seems unlikely to let a mutiny get off the ground."

"Excuse me," Woolsey leaned forward, "but I must point out that Colonel Marsha Sumner is also female"

"Are you kidding me?!" Meredith exclaimed. "This is ridiculous!"

"What? Aren't Marshall and Rodney both masculine names?" LaPierre asked with frustration, flipping to the front of the two files.

Expression controlled, Woolsey answered. "Traditionally, yes, but the Colonel's name is Marsha, not Marshall. In Dr. Mckay's case, she goes by Meredith with her close friends."

Miko blew out her breath. "They don't look happy."

"Come now, it could be worse," Xiaoyi said.

"How?" Chekov asked, lip twisting.

"At least they're all white," she said, lip curling.

Meredith and Miko looked at each other. "Please tell me she's being ironic," Meredith said.

Woolsey softly cleared his throat. "Colonel Sumner is an African-American woman."

Flipping through the files in front of him, LaPierre demanded, "Please tell me she's at least not Muslim."

Going stiff, Woolsey replied, "No, she identifies as non-denominational Christian."

"Well, at least there's that," Xiaoyi said in what was hopefully a very strange attempt at humor.

Pounding a fist on the table, Chekov barked, "This is madness! We can't have three females leading the expedition and representing Earth to a brand-new galaxy! What kind of message would that send? I respect the accomplishments of these—these young ladies, but first impressions are vitally important. This would make getting new allies more difficult and be perceived as a weakness. Our people would be under more threat, not less."

"They're middle-aged women, not teenagers," Xiaoyi frowned. "Nor do we know how an alien society would perceive a female command team. An asexual race like the Asgard or machines like the Replicators wouldn't even notice."

Leaning back in her chair, she smoothed her expression. "However, I have no attachment to the candidates themselves. There are many talented senior Chinese officers and scientists who could fill these leadership roles. I can retrieve their files if needed."

"Let's not get distracted. On this issue, I have to agree with Colonel Chekov," Chairman Strom said heavily, avoiding Woolsey's eyes as he broke ranks with his fellow American. "Most of the powers we do run into are offshoots of human. If the Atlantis expedition does run into a hostile power, a female-led expedition could actually increase the likelihood of an attack on Earth itself. I'm not saying I don't respect women—I still think Dr. Weir should lead the expedition—but there needs to be a balance. At least one if not both of the other heads should be men."

"Obviously we all respect women," Chapman said pompously, "but I think we can also all agree that a command staff made up entirely of woman wouldn't send the right message about the people of Earth. We need to be representative of our population."

"But if they're the best suited for their positions, should gender really matter?" Woolsey argued.

"It does seem like we're not going to find someone better at understanding Ancient technology than Dr. Mckay," Xiaoyi pointed out. "Being a woman hasn't impacted that."

Meredith was so angry she could barely see straight. "Of course it hasn't! I'm the best!"

"Shh!" Miko said, glancing uneasily at the door. "Keep your voice down so no one comes knocking."

Chapman—that British snake—spoke next. "Perhaps, but we can find someone very close. Dr. Troy Forrester is both male and the acknowledged runner-up to Dr. Mckay when it comes to understanding Ancient technology. Right now he's at the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica uncovering its secrets for our use. Dr. Mckay stopped working and fled back to Colorado in a snit because she refuses to work with someone she doesn't like. Do we really want to put someone so petty and ruled by hormones and emotions in charge of research in another galaxy? Research we might need to save the human race?"

Pulling a pencil off of Miko's desk, Meredith gripped it in both hands and snapped it.

"What about Dr. Carson Beckett? The man researching an artificial form of the ancient gene to allow more people to use the technology?" LaPierre said. "Perhaps he could head the sciences instead?"

Woolsey shook his head firmly. "Dr. Beckett isn't interested in leading the entire science staff. He's happy with his research and medical practice and his anxious and frankly timid approach to ancient technology would be a problem. Nor am I confident that he would stand up against pressure when questioned on something not related to medicine."

"Alright, let's stop for a moment. I don't know what O'Neill was thinking, but we need photos of these people," Strom said. "If we're going to decline Mckay and Sumner, I want to know what they look like first."

Breathing heavily, Meredith picked up the broken pencil and snapped it into smaller and smaller pieces.

O'Neill finally spoke up. "There was a mixup with the files when I switched admins. I apologize. My aide-de-camp can get those to you now. Captain Truesdale?"

"Of course, sir," she said, keeping her head down as she tapped at her laptop.

"Well," Miko said slowly, "at least the mixup wasn't because you looked manly in your picture."

Flicking a splinter of yellow paint off her pants, Meredith said through gritted teeth, "That's cold comfort right now."

"If you'll permit me," O'Neill said, standing up on the edge of the screen, "I can explain why we decided to put forth these three strong candidates for the command staff, irrespective of their gender. If you'll look at their accomplishments again, I think you'll clearly see that they are the best people for the job."

Colonel Chekov sneered in his direction. "To see clearly you have to start by not being so willfully blind. Power struggles among humans often default to sex, General. It is irresponsible to exclude it from a decision of this magnitude and hypocritical of you to preach egalitarianism when your country has nothing to back it up. America has never had a female President, your Military is dominated by men, and during your time in the Stargate program, you have recruited only a handful of women to positions of authority. Even you must recognize that in this case, a completely female command staff is not only unheard of, it is also ridiculous."

"Sit down, General O'Neill," Chairman Strom ordered when Jack was taking too long to formulate a response. "Your time to talk will come later." Turning back to the committee, Strom continued. "Obviously women have a lot to offer this program, but we also need to give this expedition the best chance to succeed."

"Let's table talk of the Research Head for a moment and switch to the military," LaPierre suggested. "If we decide to stick with Colonel Sumner, we can then look more closely at Dr. Forrester. If a different officer would better lead our troops, we can evaluate if Dr. Mckay would fit into that situation."

Woolsey frowned. "Whomever we choose, the military leader must be American since Americans are fronting the majority of the soldiers on this expedition. Need I remind you that that is non-negotiable?"

"For now," Colonel Chekov said coldly, "but if he must be American, what about Colonel Caldwell? I could work with him."

"Gentleman," Chairman Strom thundered, "and ladies, of course," he inclined his head to Xiaoyi, "we need to evaluate the current candidates before suggesting any new ones. Please."

After that, all momentum completely stalled. The IOA bickered in circles. By the end of it, the only person they could all agree on was Dr. Weir as Expedition Head, probably because they needed at least one thing settled so they could properly argue about everything else. The IOA finally decided to order a fresh batch of psychological evaluations and take a two-week recess to read over the files of several new candidates to compare to Mckay and Sumner. Then they'd reconvene.

The video ended. Miko deleted the file and began wiping her hard drive clean of any traces. "Meredith," she sighed and kept her eyes on the computer screen, "the IOA is full of _oobakamono—_very very stupid people. It is not fair, but at least not all hope is lost. You are brilliant. They will surely see that in time."

"Of course they will," Meredith said with brittle confidence. "I am a genius after all."

Tossing the broken pencil pieces into the trash, she stood up and squared her shoulders. "I'm going to go back to work, maybe do a walkthrough of the research labs. If anyone comes complaining to you, remind them of the extra tissues in the supply closet."

Miko pursed her lips. "I think they're already low after your walkthrough two days ago. Perhaps you should work out your frustrations in a less messy way? Perhaps by going to the gym?"

"A gym? Have you met me?" Meredith asked incredulously. "Dripping should come from the eyes of my minions, not my sweat glands. Besides, productivity is already up in our department and I've only been in the mountain a week. What I do works."

"Well, you know best." Smiling serenely, Miko met Meredith's eyes. "Good luck. I am glad to be working with you again after your time in Antarctica."

Clearing her throat, Meredith looked down. "Yeah, me too. It's nice to be stationed in the same place again. See you later, Miko, and A+ on the performance evaluation. As always, you do stellar work."

Meredith unlocked the door, lifted her chin, and strode off down the hallway towards lab one, patting her pocket to make sure she still had her green marker to correct everyone's mistakes.


	5. Chapter 5

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 5**

* * *

"_Rome has spoken; the case is concluded."_

-SAINT AUGUSTINE, attributed

On arriving at Cheyenne Mountain in Nevada, John quickly found himself sorted into Stargate Command. It was hard to believe that it had only been a little more than a week since he'd dodged a missile in the desert and met Rome again.

He couldn't help but wonder if any of the people he saw walking in the halls were actually aliens. An alien race called the Goa'uld (bad guys) had seeded planets across the galaxy with human slaves and built the pyramids in Egypt. The files he'd read mentioned that several non-Earth natives were currently working with the SGC, but that they were for the most part genetically human. SG-1 had a warrior named Teal'c who was mostly human except for having a weird pouch in his stomach that housed an alien symbiote. It sounded kinda creepy, but John still hoped he got a chance to meet the guy. The reports made Teal'c out to be a total badass.

Rome had called him every day since they'd met in Nevada, though never at the same time of day. Sometimes she even called him more than once. Mostly the conversations consisted of her gushing about science and talking through her dreams of a self-sustaining fusion and unification theory. She also liked whining about her coworkers, bragging about being smart, and lobbing random insults in his direction. They'd had a few deep conversations late at night, but most of the time he was in the middle of something and responded with grunts or one-word answers. Rome seemed happy to carry the conversation. Half the time she got an idea and dropped the phone to feverishly write it down, leaving him to hang up the phone on his own. Not only had he gotten used to it, he actually looked forward to her calls. Until that first call of the day, it felt like he had an itch he just couldn't scratch.

It was strange.

Sheppard took it as a sign. He decided to stop being a wuss and just ask Rome out the next time he saw her. If she wasn't interested, she'd tell him bluntly. If she said yes and it got too weird, he'd just ask to go back to being friends. Worse comes to worst, he could probably get things back to normal by deliberately pissing her off.

Hopefully though, she'd say yes and it would be amazing. Dating a woman like Rome had to be as exhilarating as flying through a lightning storm. Armed with a game plan, albeit a vague one, John felt impatient to start.

Despite donating blood to Dr. Beckett in Nevada, John found himself ordered down to the infirmary as soon as he'd gotten settled in the mountain. "Are you planning on leaving me with any, Doc?" John griped as Dr. Beckett filled a fifth vial with blood.

"If you're still complaining, you're fine," Beckett answered in a cheerful Scottish brogue. "I can see why you and Meredith are such good friends."

John huffed a laugh. "Because we both complain?"

Shrugging, Beckett capped the tube of blood and placed it in his rack. "Meredith needs more people in her life who can see past the thorns."

"You calling Mckay a rose, doc?" John raised his brows. He'd heard her called a lot of things before, but never a that. Delicate flowers didn't really do her justice, though the thorns certainly fit.

"By any other name…" Beckett shrugged and smiled. "Now, Major, open your mouth. I want a few cheek swabs of those Ancient genes of yours in case I need to travel and don't have cold storage for the DNA samples. Say AH." John begrudgingly complied as Beckett scraped the inside of his cheeks with six different x-large cotton swabs. "There, all done for now." The doctor packed up his samples and finally stood to leave.

"Whaddaya mean, for now?" John griped as he gingerly rotated his jaw. The inside of his cheeks _hurt_.

"Science never sleeps." With that somewhat threatening answer, Beckett waved cheerfully and disappeared into the back.

John slid off the bed. Before he could complete his escape, a male nurse came over and ushered him back behind the curtain. "You're joking." John slumped.

"Sorry, sir, but since you'll be going through the Stargate, you need the full panel of vaccines against all known alien pathogens," the nurse said, pulling out a tray full of needles. John submitted unhappily to the battery of shots.

At last, the nurse stepped back. "There you go, Major Sheppard. You're free to go. Come back if you experience any unusual side-effects."

Quickly hopping off the hospital bed, John rubbed his bruised hindquarters and limped back to his new room. Luckily as an officer, he didn't have to share.

Several new reports had shown up in his email while he'd been gone along with orders to resolve a few minor difficulties. His responsibilities were picking up quickly now that he wasn't a glorified truck and taxi driver anymore. Trying not to feel wistful, he reminded himself of the alien spaceships and buckled down to work through it.

Another email popped up.

It was Rome, reminding him to come to see her when he had a chance. As if he'd actually forget.

When he finally finished all his reports, John gave a big stretch and glanced at the clock. Almost dinnertime. Perfect.

John showered and shaved his scruff, pulling on a civilian outfit he hadn't worn in months—a green button-down with dark wash jeans. Before showering, he'd hung the shirt up in the bathroom to steam out the worst of the wrinkles. Taming his hair the best he could at its current length, he found himself pressing down one recalcitrant lock over and over. Grimacing at himself in the mirror, he rubbed his smooth cheeks and tried to stop feeling so nervous. It was just Rome, for pity's sake.

Heading out, he made a beeline for the center of the research section. Mckay had described her domain in detail over the phone, so he felt comfortable navigating the hallways once he got there.

As he passed an open doorway, he heard two scientists griping. "It wasn't that bad of an idea!" a male voice whined loudly. "She didn't have to be so mean."

"It had a 6% chance of overheating and frying the plane's targeting systems during a hard bank, mate. I don't think any of the pilots around here would agree with you," an Australian voice responded.

"Fighting is about taking risks! Soldiers know that. Besides, I can improve that percentage if I just rework the schematics," the first defended.

"Well, obviously you should have done that before mentioning it to the Queen B," the Australian said unsympathetically

"I know that _now_, but I didn't think she'd pick up on it so quick—"

John shook his head and moved on. He'd heard it all before. Mckay brought out the best in her people, but she did it like a drill sergeant: with a lot of loud orders, creative insults, and superior knowledge of everything that infuriated everyone. Her science minions worked extremely hard and produced results, either because of their hatred of Mckay and a desperate desire to prove themselves superior or else from hero-worship and the reward of a rare compliment and increased responsibility. She rarely bothered to lie, so when she said something nice, you knew she really meant it. A man might get less flack for the command technique, but Rome was unapologetically herself and didn't care or even notice that most people found her abrasive. John occasionally found it annoying, but usually it just amused and impressed him. He found her quirks endearing.

Maybe he was crazy, but despite all her faults, he really liked the woman. More than liked, to be honest. She was his Rome, his eternal and sacred city. In all his years and travels, no one had ever outshone her.

Coming up on the largest of the lab spaces where Rome's email had directed him to find her, he peeked his head through the door. A petite Asian woman sat at a computer with three huge monitors. She looked up when he cleared his throat, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Yes?" she asked softly, a hint of what sounded like a Japanese accent just barely elongating the word into '_yesu_.'

"I'm looking for Dr. Mckay," John said, glancing around the room. A silver box on a table sent out the mental equivalent of a wagging tail when he looked at it too long, so he sent it a firm _NO_ and turned back to the scientist. John hadn't gotten all dressed up and shaved only to get stuck in here activating things for the next few hours.

"I regret to inform you that she left a few minutes ago," the Asian woman said.

John leaned a hip against her desk. "Do you know where she went?"

Cocking her head to the side like a bird, she stayed reserved. "Is this work or personal?"

"I'm Major John Sheppard, but I'm here as a friend of Mckay's. She told me to find her once I arrived on base," he said with what he hoped was a charming smile. "I'm sure she'll drag me over here to work soon since I'm supposed to help activate ancient devices with my genes, but tonight I just wanted to say hello."

"A friend?" She seemed skeptical, but then her mouth rounded in understanding. "Oh yes, you must be the John that she speaks of so often. I'm Dr. Miko Kusanagi. It's a pleasure to meet you." Kusanagi bowed her head formally. The name and mannerisms added to the accent cemented his assumption of her Japanese nationality, reminding him of when he'd been stationed in Okinawa.

In response, John gave her a bow from the waist. "The pleasure is all mine, Doctor."

Dr. Kusanagi smiled with pleasure at his gesture. "Most likely you'll find Dr. Mckay in the gym two levels up."

"The gym?" John questioned incredulously. He knew Rome forced herself to use exercise equipment while reading scientific articles she expected to be stupid, but otherwise, she had a very vocal hatred of exercising.

"She had some anger to work out," Miko said delicately, though sympathetic temper sparked in her almond eyes.

"Over what?" John asked with concern. Usually, Rome just yelled at people until she felt better about them existing or got distracted by something more interesting.

Giving him a closed-mouth smile, she shook her head. "I will leave that explanation to Dr. Mckay, though I'm sure she would appreciate a friendly ear."

Pulling on his memories of the Japanese language, John said, "_Arigatou gozaimasu_, Dr. Kusanagi."

Surprised pleasure lit her features even as she shook her head. "_Ieie, kochirakoso arigatou gozaimasu. _I look forward to working with you in the future, Major Sheppard. Good luck." With that, Dr. Kusanagi turned back to her work in polite dismissal.

Leaving the research labs, John went up two floors and promptly got turned around in the maze of hallways. Seeing a familiar face up ahead, he quickened his pace. "Captain King," he called.

About to turn a corner, King stopped and turned to face John along with her companion, a fit Hispanic man with an unmilitary slouch to his posture. "Major Sheppard," King acknowledged. "I've been meaning to track you down. SG-15 is down a man, so they've decided for our sins to make us train up two more, including you. We've been ordered to bring both you and one Lt. Aiden Ford up to spec on Stargate travel ASAP. We should be seeing a lot of each other in the weeks to come."

"I look forward to it," John said, adding hopefully, "especially if that training involves spaceships."

"You never know," King laughed. She gestured to her companion. "Have you met Rigo yet?"

The man sent John a friendly grin complete with dimples, reminding John of Rome's nickname for him. "Rigo Diaz, doctor of anthropology and linguistics, at your service. I hear I have your flying to thank for keeping my team alive."

"Just doing my job." John shrugged, uncomfortable with praise. "Hey, can I ask you guys a favor? I'm trying to find the gym on this level, but I got turned around."

"Of course, it's this way," King gestured, leading John around two corners and then cutting across a room to a hallway on the other side. "You'll figure out how to get around here soon enough, I'm sure," she said in response to the look on his face.

After one more turn, John finally saw a set of double doors ahead. A group of men exited, releasing a buzz of voices, the clink of weight machines, and the smell of old sweat. "Thanks for your help." John nodded, waiting for King and Diaz to leave before going in. Through the window, he could see Mckay standing in a corner by herself attacking a punching bag. He'd prefer to approach her without an audience.

Peeking around John to see through the window, Diaz began chuckling under his breath. "Oh ho ho, so that's the way of it, Major?"

Flashing John a wink, King grabbed the anthropologist's elbow and began towing him away. "Now don't be jealous, dimples. There's plenty of other fish flopping around on your hooks, ones much less likely to bite your throat out. Distract yourself with one of them."

"What are you talking about, King, you know that you're the only fish in the sea for me," Diaz protested, placing his hands over his heart and widening his eyes.

"Careful, I bite more than just throats," she warned pleasantly. Diaz laughed and held up his hands in surrender. What he said next was lost as they disappeared around the corner.

John entered the gym, breathing in the familiar acrid scent of old sweat and metal weights. The soldiers in the room had left an empty ring around where Mckay wildly attacked a punching bag in the corner. He couldn't tell if it was from respect or distaste, but they were obviously eying Mckay and gossiping. A few looked his way with unfriendly stares. When he failed to flinch, they turned away dismissively. Without his uniform to denote rank, the rest dismissed him as unimportant and went back to their workouts, though he knew that at least half of them would keep part of their attention on him until he left. Mckay seemed oblivious to everything as she punched the bag wildly, making it rock and sway with the thud of her fists.

"Your punches are crap," John called as he walked up to the blond scientist.

"I don't care," Rome grunted, missing a punch and almost faceplanting before catching herself.

"You're going to injure your hands," he chided. "That will make typing and rewiring circuits difficult. I've shown you how to hit correctly."

"Fine," she snapped huffily, "show me again."

Stepping up next to her, John gently curled her fingers into the correct shape. "You were supposed to keep this stuff up even when I wasn't around." Rome's hands had neatly trimmed nails, tool callouses, and a constellation of scars. Ink stains in blue, black, green, and red decorated the creases of her fingers and palms like a henna tattoo. No one else in the world had hands like Rome.

A rush of affection surged through John's chest. Cupping her fisted hand between his palms, he squeezed gently and looked down into her eyes, the blue of a clear sky at 40,000 feet. "These hands are valuable. They deserve to be protected and taken care of."

"They can take care of themselves, as seen by their punching of things," Rome stuttered, flustered as she veiled her gaze with a fan of dark blond lashes.

Unable to hold back his smirk, John stepped back. "Well come on then, show me what you've got."

Keeping her fist clenched with her thumb now properly positioned, Rome bounced on her feet twice, keeping her knees bent. Face utterly focused, she stood perpendicular to the bag. Putting her weight on her back foot, she lunged, rocketing forward and punching the bag with full force. Her fist hit the bag with a pop and the chains clanked.

John's brows climbed. "Huh. That was a good punch."

"Ha! You underestimated me," Rome gloated. "If that had been you instead of the bag, you'd have been KO'd. Mike Tyson's Punch-out!"

"I bet you more than half the guys in here are too young to know what that means." John pointed out wryly.

Rome lifted her eyebrow mockingly. "They may be spring chickens, but you're an old rooster ready for the stew pot. Admit it. You would've hit the mat and you know it."

Tipping his head, John shrugged. "Maybe. When you do it right and put all of your weight behind your punch, you do pack quite a wallop."

"I'm proud of being sturdy, thank you very much," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Maybe if you practiced more, you'd turn more of that sturdy into muscle and remember to punch the right way too." He poked her shoulder.

Making a face, Rome attacked the bag again, though not with quite as much force or gusto.

"So, what brings you down to the sauna of man-sweat, as you so lovingly call the gym?" John lightly kicked the side of her foot to correct her form. Rome glared and punched harder, making the bag sway. "I went looking for you in your lab, but the grapevine told me you were actually up here." He moved to hold the bag steady.

"I'm trying to work out my anger in a healthy, male-approved way," she gritted out, suddenly attacking the bag with a flurry of once more wild punches.

"As opposed to?" John raised a brow, keeping the bag steady.

Rome smiled bitterly. "Terrorizing my scientists and ripping their ideas to shreds along with their self-esteem. Ruining a bunch of other people's credit, getting their cars towed, donating their retirement funds to charity organizations, and paying off some poor grad student to accidentally break a cooler full of hagfish on their front porch. You know, that sort of thing."

Ducking a punch that skidded off the bag and almost hit him in the throat, John asked, "I'd ask about the hagfish, but I'm more interested in what actually got you so mad?"

"Stressed Hagfish produce slime, gallons of it," Mckay said, her punches slowing to a stop. "The initial IOA meeting to decide the leadership of Atlantis didn't go well."

"Which part?" John asked, used to following her verbal tangents.

"The part where I have boobs and pee sitting down," she made a sweeping gesture down her body that John followed appreciatively with his eyes despite knowing it wasn't appropriate. Luckily she didn't seem to notice his moment of 14-year-old weakness when she'd used the word _boobs_.

"The best people for each leadership position all happen to be women. Since being a female with—with _cooties_ is more important than any other aspect of a candidate's resume, the IOA won't send more than one or two at most. As expected, Elizabeth Weir got in as Expedition Leader, so now it's down to me and some Colonel Sumner."

"Well," John said slowly, but Rome cut off his attempt to be comforting.

"You don't understand." Rome's hands traced a shape in the air. "Colonel Sumner's this statuesque black woman whose face just screams stern competence and honor. I've never photographed that well—probably because of bad lighting and minimum-wage photographers—but since I haven't met the committee and they're all men except for the Chinese rep, they're going to stupidly judge me off the attractiveness of my employee photo." Her mouth pulled down crookedly.

Pushing the punching bag to make it rotate slowly on its chain, John summed up the problem. "So the IOA doesn't want the expedition led entirely by women. No matter how big people like to talk about equality, most people aren't that comfortable with seeing only women in charge."

"Because they're insecure idiots! The IOA tried to pass it off as being _representative _by making sure to have at least one man in charge too and blah blah blah!" Rome's hands waved wildly. "If it had been three white men named Eli, Rodney, and Marshall tapped to represent the Earth, the IOA wouldn't have blinked twice. But make them all _women_ and suddenly they're worried about diversity and what _message_ it would send about our planet and society."

John shifted uncomfortably. "You're not wrong. People are used to having men in charge, especially the military." John shrugged. "I'm sure you three ladies would do an awesome job, but on first glance, it does sound odd. It's just the way we're socialized or whatever. Sorry."

Turning her glare on him, Rome added, "There's a reason I usually sign things Dr. R.M. Mckay. It allows narrow-minded jerks to make their own assumptions."

Losing steam, Rome rubbed her face tiredly. "I haven't wanted anything as badly as Atlantis in a long time. It's infuriating to think that I could lose it because of something I have no control over. It's been years since my sex has mattered more than my work. I thought I'd proved myself to these people. I've given them my time and sweat and blood," placing a hand on her stomach, she looked into the distance with unfocused eyes and swallowed hard. Her voice came out as a whisper, "I've given them everything. What more could they want?"

The expression on her face made John's heart ache. He wished he knew how to help. "I don't know, Rome. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I," she grimaced, stepping over to the wall. Wiping her face with her towel, she picked up a bottle of water and took a few gulps. "I won't give up. I'm working on my current strategy. Since people learned that I'm back in the states, I've been inundated with private consulting requests from top corporations and think tanks. I do them from time to time to keep my reputation up in scientific circles. I can't have people forgetting what a genius I am. Working on top-secret alien technology means I don't get to publish much," she explained with aggravation, squeezing the water bottle in her hand with a crackle.

"With the IOA watching, taking on a project outside the program could go a couple of ways. They might think I'm shirking my duty by doing science for something not directly benefiting Stargate Command. On the other hand, they might applaud me for concerning myself with the petty concerns of the common man. It's hard to say."

John shook his head wryly. "Considering how much companies pay you for just a few hours of your time, I don't think anyone but you would call those concerns petty."

Mckay waved away his words. "What's important here is swaying the minds of the IOA." She picked at the sticker on her water bottle. "I hate trying to figure out how to make people like me. I'm awful at it. Maybe I should just ignore the IOA and do a consult for me. A few of them look relatively interesting and I could put the money into an educational fund for my niece Madison's Ph.D. studies."

"Isn't she—like—two or three?" John picked up the towel she'd dropped on the floor and tossed it into her bag. Rome handed him her water bottle too—like he was her housekeeper or something. John rolled his eyes and dropped it on the floor at her feet.

"So?" Rome asked blankly, not noticing. "Anyways, I can't believe I voluntarily visited Jeannie's house this month. If I'd known the IOA might deny me the chance to risk dying in another galaxy, I wouldn't have bothered. I mean, Maddie is awesome and on track to follow in the footsteps of her genius Auntie Meredith and stagnating-but-still-brilliant mother Jeannie, but I had to put up with the English-major husband. He made us watch historical dramas and got all pretentious about the symbolism. My eyes were more glazed than a doughnut from Tim Hortons." Snapping her fingers, she looked at John, "What's his name again?"

"You mean Kaleb, your brother-in-law?" John offered wryly. "The guy you said you started to like during your visit two years ago?"

"Yeah, Kaleb, but I never said I actually _liked_ him. Don't exaggerate." She wiped an arm across the sweat on her brow. "I'll never understand why Jeannie gave up her education to marry him and be a stay-at-home mom." Taking a step, she stumbled and looked down in confusion at the water bottle crushed under her foot, picking it up and putting it in her bag. "I mean, I know Jeannie always wanted to experience a happy family instead of the train wreck we grew up with, but I don't think she's properly explored the benefits of being a single mom. I could get her a job here and would pay for a live-in nanny for Maddie. I bet I could even find her a manny instead with lots of hot, college-aged friends and then she could experiment with being a cougar for a while and do cutting-edge engineering at the same time. I'd have to warn her off the soldiers though. I wouldn't trust them on a date with my little sister," she glanced at the men in the room suspiciously.

"Not all soldiers are bad," John said pointedly.

"Well obviously you're fine, but—" stopping, she looked at him with horror. "Do you actually want to date Jeannie? My own little sister?"

John rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't want to date Jean. Don't be ridiculous."

Placing a hand on her chest, Rome fell back against the wall limply. "Don't do that! You scared me and that's not good for my heart. I have a delicate disposition, you know."

"Sure, Rome," John shook his head. "Speaking of which, you must be hungry, so I was thinking..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words to ask her to go out with him for dinner off-base as a romantic _date_ and not just as friends, but before he could muster up the right phrasing, she started talking again.

"Oh, I know not all soldiers are bad." She checked the clock on the wall and then crouched down to zip up her bag. "I even gave in and agreed to go out with one tonight for dinner, that Captain from Area-51 working on the BC-304, the one who has your hair?"

John's stomach dropped into his boots. "What?"

"Yeah, he's actually based here in Colorado now. Sewer or Seaward or something like that. Hopefully, he knows enough science to be interesting. Plus, he promised to take me out for the best food Colorado Springs has to offer. I told him no citrus or he's dead, so I think I'll get a pretty good meal out of it if nothing else."

Rome shrugged and plucked at her collar to fan air down her sweaty t-shirt. "If the date goes badly, maybe I'll find you later. Otherwise, I'll see you in my lab first thing tomorrow morning. There's so much work to do on Ancient devices now that I have your genes to help me activate them." She grinned up at him with excitement. "I'm so glad you're here, John."

Abruptly Rome's eyes widened. She looked him up and down slowly with obvious appreciation in her gaze. Clearing her throat awkwardly, her face went red. "You look nice, John. I just noticed. That green really brings out your eyes and your long dark lashes. If I had those, I'd never wear mascara, not that I wear it much anyway. You look really nice, not pretty, but handsome I mean, though you probably already know that and don't need a friend like me to tell you as a friend."

John had to work hard to keep his cheeks from going pink.

As Rome bent down to pick up her bag, her ponytail slid over her shoulder, the movement bringing out rich copper and gold threads in her hair that made his fingers twitch to trace it back to the curve of her jaw.

Then she ruined it. "Are all of your uniforms dirty or something? They have laundry facilities on residential floors. Anyway, I have to go shower off the pungent layers of sweat from that disgusting punching bag before my date. Catch you later?"

Smiling self-deprecatingly, John nodded. "Sure thing, Rome." _Not like he had anything better to do._

Not meeting his eyes, most likely too busy dreaming of her upcoming date with the spaceship engineer—though with a name like Sewer he should have gone into sanitation—Mckay waved goodbye and left the gym.

A short female marine with red hair stepped up next to John, joining him in watching Mckay disappear through the swinging doors. "You were totally going to ask Doc Mckay out, weren't you?" she asked with a smirk.

Face darkening, Sheppard undid the top three buttons of his green shirt and stripped it off over his head, throwing it against the wall in a heap. "Congratulations, Lieutenant, you've just volunteered to be my sparring partner and entertainment for the evening."

Laughing gamely, she gestured him over to one of the sparring rings and a rack of pads. "My pleasure and it's Lt. Laura Cadman. Just so you know, I don't pull my kicks."

"Major John Sheppard, and I guessed as much. You don't seem like the type," John said dryly, strapping on the pads.

"I thought you were military." Cadman grinned mischievously. "Welcome to Stargate Command, sir, where every day is like a kick in the face. Allow me to demonstrate." She bounced on her toes and then gestured him into the ring with a flourish.

"You're too kind." John rolled his shoulders and prepared to give and receive some bruises. _All in all, there were worse ways to spend an evening._


	6. Chapter 6

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 6**

* * *

"_To Rome for everything."_

_-MIGUEL DE CERVANTES, Don Quixote_

"Who stole my green pen?!" Mckay looked around the lab suspiciously.

Everyone kept their head down but Miko, who was staring in frustration at the engineering schematics tacked on the wall next to her desk. When she noticed Meredith's attention, she shrugged absently. "I only use black. Also, do you think I could get away with using liquid helium in this?"

Mckay scoffed. "Considering it vaporizes if you even look at it wrong, why would you want helium in equipment that's likely to get punctured during impacts? It's the most volatile element on Earth."

"So that's a no," Miko sighed, turning back to her schematics. "Thanks for the help."

"I could go get you some green pens." John jumped up enthusiastically, drawing her attention. She'd turned the nearest desk into a work station piled with Ancient devices for Sheppard to classify. The previous occupant had happily fled to a new desk as far away from her as possible.

"No," Meredith pointed at John. "You're barely here as is with all of your gun-toting gate training. We're already behind on all the things we could be discovering. Now tell me what that is." She gestured at a metal hexagonal prism. "Is it a portable gate dialing device?"

"It's an alarm clock," John drawled sourly.

"You're just making that up," she accused him.

"Then I guess you don't mind if I set it to go off randomly just before I leave on my next mission through the 'gate." His smile showed too many teeth.

The Czech guy with the crazy hair gave her a sour look. "It isn't just you that will suffer if he goes through with this, Mckay." Unfortunately, the Czech was too browbeaten by a communist upbringing to be properly scared of her. "The Major's been slaving away with the rest of us for hours. I think we're all due for a break at this point. Maybe a snack will make you less—what do they call it? Hangry?"

Glaring at him, Mckay saw a pen sticking out of his pocket. She couldn't see the color, but it wouldn't surprise her if it was green. "It hasn't been that long, Dr. Zebo, and I don't get _hangry_."

"It's Za-len-ka." Glaring back, he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Ignoring his correction, she looked around for another pen. "And if I'm mad, it's only because stupid people deserve it for putting us way behind schedule. Did we or did we not almost get blown up yesterday when Johnson used his inhaler in the middle of welding a cracked engine block?"

"He's lucky he got away with only a few mild burns. The idiot certainly has clear sinuses now," the Czech said snidely. She couldn't help but snort in agreement. Despite herself, she liked this Z guy. If he lasted another week without requesting a transfer, she'd try harder to memorize his name. She was horrible at names.

"Check the clock, Mckay," Sheppard crossed his arms and gestured with his chin. "The Earth one on the wall, not the broken Ancient one."

Glancing over begrudgingly, she blinked in surprise at how late it was. Her stomach grumbled. "Huh, I guess it is past lunchtime. I suppose I could go for some food. I do need to be careful of my hypoglycemia."

"I'll take any excuse I can get." John jumped to his feet and practically flew to the doorway, giving the Czech and two other scientists high-fives in passing.

For a self-described loner, John really was liked by everyone. Even Meredith liked him. She blamed John's bad self-esteem on his father, Patrick Sheppard, who'd twisted John up so much that he believed that people didn't care about him or want him around. John acted like he didn't need any attachments, but she knew better.

Not that Meredith wasn't equally screwed up because of her own stellar parental figures, but she preferred to pretend that she'd come forth into the world a fully-formed scientific goddess akin to _The Birth of Venus_ by Botticelli. Instead of leaving the ocean in a seashell, Meredith had appeared riding a wave of scientific publications. If only her little sister Jeannie would go along with the fiction and stop tormenting Meredith by continuing to call her by her awful first name Rodney.

Meredith's stomach grumbled demandingly. Taking off her lab coat, Mckay tossed it on her desk and stretched. "Alright everyone, feel free to take a break. I'll be back later."

Just before she reached the doorway she was stopped by a young scientist with a lilting Hispanic accent. "Dr. Mckay, could you please check my numbers really quickly? I've almost got it but I know I'm missing something."

John looked at the ceiling and sighed gustily as Meredith paused to read over the equation on the young man's screen. She highlighted a section of text. "You didn't take the temperature differential in the two environments into account. There's bleed-off from the active system that will probably affect this process here."

Even on dusky skin, a blush showed through. "Oh duh. Thanks, Dr. Mckay. I'll fix that now."

"Get a snack first. You'll think better that way." Clapping the man on the shoulder, she moved to the door.

"I want red Jello and a burger," she told John decisively.

"You always want red Jello. And didn't you have burgers with your _boyfriend _last night?" John curled his lip as they moved to the elevator.

Meredith waved away his words. "Captain Seward's not my boyfriend and I doubt he ever will be. We've only gone out a handful of times and twice had to cut it short just in case the mysterious black SUV following us down the street was a kidnapping attempt on yours truly. My brain is too valuable for me to disappear, not to mention my skin is much too delicate for burlap bags and zip cords."

Thunderclouds gathered on John's brow as he sent her a probing look, reminding her too late that she'd been hiding that current danger from him, afraid that talking about kidnapping would lead to her babbling about her past kidnappings too. There were certain things she never intended to talk about again, but with John, her filters disappeared.

Nevertheless, some things should stay hidden off-world and out of sight. If she mentioned her most private pain he'd ask questions, questions that would make old wounds bleed anew. Meredith didn't like pain. She'd barely survived the first healing two years ago. She had no intention of opening that scab all over again.

Mckay quickly changed the topic. "Granted, the food on our dates has been phenomenal and Seward appropriately admires my genius, but we've run out of conversation topics, his kisses have too much tongue and spit, and I haven't let him take my pants off or unsnap my bra."

John flinched back. "_Ugh_! C'mon, Rome. I don't need to know the intimate details."

"You're my best friend. Suck it up," she said unsympathetically and with a bit of pride at her successful gambit. Considering how he'd forced her to listen to the merits of his ex-wife's golden tan and impressive flexibility courtesy of hot yoga, he deserved the discomfort and worse. "As for last night's burgers, we had these awesome black bean burgers with locally-sourced ingredients including citrus-free aioli and buns dyed green and shaped like little heads of lettuce. They tasted amazing and were healthy too. That was the highlight. Unfortunately, Seward's car mysteriously broke down a couple of miles after we left the restaurant. He wouldn't let me try to fix it, instead making me go skygazing in downtown Denver where there are no stars visible, only smog and brightly reflecting satellites. The walk ended up being mostly uphill too until we finally flagged down a taxi. I did not enjoy myself. That means I am totally due a beef patty today. I exercised more than my quota, so I deserve it."

"Did you up your cardio in the gym like I asked?" John held open the door to the DFAC.

Seeing only one red gelatin cup left in a sea of toxic lime, Meredith quickened her pace. She wanted that red cup. "Yes, mother."

Right before an undeserving Air Force private stole her red Jello, John stretched out his long arm and swiped it for her. "Here," he plopped it into her greedy palm, ignoring the private's dirty look, "and I'm only trying to get you fit for Atlantis. It's a mission in an unknown and likely hostile environment. You stand a better chance of staying alive if you're healthy," his voice went low so no one nearby could hear him, "especially with how green most of the officers going seem to be. I hope there's something I'm not seeing because I'm honestly a little worried."

"The military contingent isn't finalized yet. I'm sure it'll be fine. The sciences are the important part anyway. So, are you trying to remind me to be nice to you? Or guilt me into not having a burger? Because neither technique really works with my personality." Mckay pulled a burger plate out of the warmer and placed it on her tray. She did leave behind the fries, but mostly because they looked too dark and crunchy.

Instead of getting mad at her honesty like most people, John just snagged a turkey sandwich on white and shook his head with amusement.

Meredith loved that about him. To be honest, there wasn't much she didn't love about John Sheppard. If he'd ever given her even the slightest opening, she'd have climbed him like a tree and made mathematical-genius babies with him. She'd loved the man for most of her adult life. After all, no one else could give her a nickname and have her actually like it. She'd inconvenienced herself for John Sheppard in ways both public and private that she'd never even think of doing for anyone else, not even her once-husband. That should've been a sign right there that the marriage wasn't working out.

Unfortunately, John had always wanted to just stay friends. Half the time he didn't even seem to remember she was female. The one time she'd tried to kiss him, he'd misunderstood her lunge and yanked her back upright, mocking her about her clumsiness.

Since being romantically nervous around Sheppard had proved to be too distracting, she'd decided to settle into unrequited love and stop worrying about it. In fact, she'd recommend John as an unrequited crush to just about anyone. Considering she only saw him every few years, it was really ideal since it left her to focus on work the rest of the time. It worked even better now. With his secret math skills and Ancient genetics, he could even help her advance her work when she got distracted and slowed down. She'd been much more content ever since her decision.

Speaking of contentment— "Mmm, cheeseburger." She chewed with half-lidded eyes. "There's something to be said about the meltiness of American cheese versus cheddar."

"You also like the taste of ration bars," John criticized through a bite of turkey sandwich, the half-chewed food in his mouth visible as he spoke. He paused for a second to pick out a piece of bread that had glued itself to the roof of his mouth behind his front teeth. "On my last mission with SG-15, Dr. Diaz made the mistake of giving a ration bar to the chieftain's new bride. You'd think an anthropologist would know better. After she spit it out, the chief cried poison and set the whole village after us."

"He was probably more worried about Dr. Dimples-McSmiles-a-lot flirting with his new bride than about poison," she pointed out. "Unless it was you hitting on her, _Kirk_."

Rolling his eyes, John snagged her discarded pickles a few seconds after she picked them off her burger. "I am not a Kirk just because I'm good at making friends with the natives, Rome."

"The _female _natives."

"I'm not the one in a relationship right now," he defended, popping the pickle into his mouth and chewing viciously.

"I am not dating him. We just go out sometimes." Meredith frowned, "Besides, what about that super annoying red-head you get sweaty with on a regular basis?"

"What, Cadman? She's just a friend." John said with every appearance of honesty. "The only fun sweat is workout sweat."

"Sure." Wrinkling her nose, Meredith stuffed the last of the cheeseburger into her mouth.

Looking up over John's head, she spied Kindall on the other side of the room. It reminded her of their secret project. Time was running out. The IOA had to appoint her as Science Head of Atlantis soon. They had to see that she was clearly the best candidate. The last bit of cheeseburger stuck in her throat like glue, no longer pleasant. She swallowed hard several times to dislodge it.

"I gotta go talk to someone. Go back to my lab when you're finished and keep working on those artifacts," she ordered as she stood up.

John's eyes narrowed as he twisted around to see who she was looking at, half-rising from his chair until he noticed Kindall. "You're gonna make Seward jealous. Just what do you and the sergeant talk about so secretly all the time?"

"None of your business," she said breezily, picking up her precious red Jello cup and a spoon.

"Fine, but you only get me for one more hour. I have a meeting with General O'Neill after that," John told her with a superior smirk. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs.

"What? Why are you wasting time eating, then? Go back to work!" she ordered, pushing his chair flat again.

"Hmm, I think I'll finish my drink first." John's green eyes met hers challengingly as he took a slow sip, licking a drop of water from his lower lip and making it shiny. Those long lashes and wet lips were completely unfair.

Scowling, she poked him hard in the arm, making him flinch. "I'll remember this, Sheppard."

Then she shoved a spoonful of red gelatin in her mouth and marched over to plop herself down across from Sergeant Kindall. Their business only took a few minutes and concluded unsatisfactorily. Annoyed, she went back to her lab.

Despite her words to Sheppard, Meredith unexpectedly found herself going out with Captain Seward again that night.

After Sheppard had disappeared for his meeting, she'd become engrossed in calculations on a smaller, more portable power generator. She didn't have it figured out yet, but she felt so close, working even after everyone else left for the day. Dr. Z-whatever, the smart one uncowed by her presence, left last, turning off most of the lights except for the ones around her desk.

"I thought I'd find you here. You're such a workaholic."

Blinking, Meredith looked up to see Captain Seward approaching her desk.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, rubbing her dry eyes. "You don't work here."

"As a military scientist working on special projects for the BC-304, I have the credentials to get access to most of this section." His smirk emphasized the scar in his upper lip. He placed a hand next to her keyboard and leaned close. "C'mon, take a break with me. I got us an amazing dinner reservation. Let's go."

Meredith leaned back in her chair. "I don't want to. I don't think we're really working out and I'm busy working on something more important."

Anger darkened Seward's face as he listened to her refusal.

He might have John's great hair, but he wasn't like John, not at all.

At that moment her stomach gave a loud gurgle.

Grabbing the back of her chair, Seward forcefully pulled it away from her desk. "Don't lie. You're obviously hungry. They could probably hear your stomach on the other side of the Stargate. C'mon, let's go."

"I said I'm fine," Meredith told him. "I don't want to go."

"Your body says otherwise and that's what I'm listening to. Food will do your big brain good." Seward grabbed her purse. "I'm not leaving unless you're coming with me. You know you're hungry. Let me feed you and you can tell me how brilliant your current ideas are. You never go into enough detail." A hint of calculation hid behind his smile.

Meredith knew better than to tell another scientist, especially one not working on the same project, the exact details of her brilliant ideas and discoveries. Ideas got stolen all of the time. She may be blond but she wasn't that dumb, at least not twice. Troy had taught her not to trust others too much, especially not attractive men.

Her stomach growled again. Meredith scowled over at her computer, but it was currently locked up processing data. She was hungry. "Oh, fine, but just for a quick bite of food." She did need to be careful of her hypoglycemia. Just because it was self-diagnosed didn't mean it wasn't a real danger. "Don't make this more than it is." Standing up, she snatched back her purse and stomped from the room, followed by a smug Seward.

Unfortunately, Seward's "amazing dinner reservation" turned out to be Tibetan, a cuisine which combined the blandest parts of Chinese and Thai food. Meredith would've preferred eating leftover fluorescent yellow mac and cheese in the DFAC, especially the gooey parts underneath the top crust. No such luck.

Inside the restaurant, the waiter palmed some money from Seward and took them at a private, dimly lit booth situated on the other side of the restaurant away from the other patrons.

"Isn't this great?" Seward sent her an intimate smile. "Over here we don't have to worry about being overheard or seen if things get... frisky." He winked and gestured at her to slide in on his side of the booth.

Meredith wasn't feeling frisky. Nor did she really want to eat Tibetan, but food was food. She'd survive—at least as long as there wasn't any citrus. She deliberately sat on the opposite side of the booth near the edge.

Lips going flat for the briefest second, Seward breathed in through his nose and sat down jerkily. Twisting his lips into an attempt at a smile, he said, "I'm glad you came out with me tonight. Let me tell you about my day." He leaned back in the booth and stretched out his legs so they brushed against her ankles.

The novelty of a man seeking her out romantically had worn thin. Sure, with the frustrating things happening to her career it had been nice to have a distraction who looked up to her, could loosely understand her science tangents, and fed her great food. He also had John's sexy hair and a nice jawline, but they'd quickly exhausted his area of expertise on the first two dates and had nothing else in common. He'd become boring. Meredith didn't mind talking to an appreciative audience, but contrary to popular opinion, she didn't always want to monologue. Sometimes she really enjoyed a rousing debate, witty banter, and listening to someone who was passionate about their work. When she had to listen to Seward, it became a snore-fest.

Like now. She'd drifted off into engine schematics and possible parts for her theoretical generator, rearranging them like a three-dimensional game of Tetris. Seward's voice morphed into the teacher from _Charlie Brown _going, "Wah wah wah."

Oblivious to her dissatisfaction, Seward patted her hand when the waiter arrived, dragging her attention back just in time for him to thoughtlessly order for her, despite her rant when he'd done the same thing the night before. Bored and hungry, Meredith didn't bother correcting him again since everything on the menu looked equally unappetizing. At least he did remember to tell them not to include citrus because of her allergy.

If worst came to worst, she could fake anaphylactic tingling and take a cab home. She hated using her allergy like that, but Seward didn't seem to understand the word _no_. Playing with her fork, she thought about pretending to see another black SUV trying to kidnap her, but if she did she'd get a horrible lecture from O'Neill about crying wolf. This was stupid. She was annoyed at herself for ever agreeing to come out with Seward tonight.

"—which one was your favorite, baby?" Seward asked with a close-mouthed smile that made the scar above his lip look shiny. He pressed his knee against hers.

"Favorite what? I wasn't paying attention," Mckay answered bluntly, shifting her legs away. Then she rewound his words and realized that he'd called her "baby." _Ugh. That's it, no more best behavior. Maybe a dose of Meredith Mckay uncensored will finally get him to leave me alone._

The corners of Seward's eyes tightened. "The _Friends_ cast, I was asking who your favorite character was."

Meredith looked him boldly in the eye. "I hated that show, so I can't really tell you. They all seemed like idiots," she shrugged. "Though despite the ditziness, I did inexplicably like _Buffy_. It had good snark. That and _Xena_, though I think my appreciation had more to do with my girl-crush on Lucy Lawless than the quality of the show. I wish there really were deadly pressure points to cut off the flow of blood to a victim's brain. I would use it _daily_."

"Female-led shows don't appeal to me," he curled his lip. "What about _ER_?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Why not just watch a soap like _General Hospital_?"

A red flush lit the tips of Seward's ears. "I've never watched a soap opera in my life. I'm a man, in case you hadn't noticed." Taking a breath, he looked up at her through his lashes and slid his leg along hers. "Maybe I can finally prove it to you tonight, _Meredith_. I think I've been patient enough with you."

Just then their food arrived, saving her from having to answer. _Was she misreading things or was he demanding to have sex with her? _Considering that every woman in Mckay's family for three generations had had an accidental and unwanted pregnancy—both with and without the use of birth control—she tried to keep her privates private. The few times she'd bent that rule and compromised her self-respect had turned out to be disappointing and regrettable, up to and including her short-lived marriage, which had been physically satisfying at first but emotionally devastating and had ended when Troy had stopped pretending to love anyone more than himself and stuck a thousand metaphorical daggers in Meredith's back, belly, and heart.

There was nothing tempting enough about Seward to make her want to change that. She needed to make it clear that they weren't going to have sex. But if that wasn't what he was talking about, she would look stupid saying something. That or plant the idea in his head.

Social interactions were so frustrating. She wished this was math. Math was easy.

Unfazed by her lack of response, Seward chewed and swallowed a single bite of food before saying, "I'm looking forward to exploring Atlantis with you."

Brow furrowing, she took a sip of water—no lemon. "I don't think I follow, Captain. Aren't you going back to Area 51 and the shipyard after your rotation in the mountain?"

"I've asked you to call me Harrison," he chided, using his knife to slice his noodles into smaller pieces. "Going back was in the initial plan, but I got the chance to volunteer with you and took it. After a quick rotation in Atlantis, I'll be fast-tracked for promotion and we can transfer back into plum assignments on Earth."

"But Atlantis is the plum assignment," Mckay pointed out, feeling bewildered that anyone would look at the fabled city of the Ancients as a stepping stone instead of a shining jewel. Once she got out there, she planned on rarely coming back. Except for award ceremonies and her niece Madison's first doctoral graduation, what was the point?

"I guess it all depends on your career trajectory," he waved dismissively.

"Yeah, if you want it to be flat," she muttered.

He chose to ignore her comment. "Enough about the distant future. Let's talk about now. I saw that your desk was overflowing with research requests from private companies. Are you going to take on any short-term consults? It could be a good change of pace for you while you wait to hear from the IOA on the leadership position."

Sighing, Mckay took a big bite of carrot and went along with the topic change. "There are a few from the energy sector that could be fun. I think I could funnel in some of the stuff we've discovered on other planets to start improving the energy infrastructure locally. Considering that the program's power requirements keep getting steeper, it might be nice to have a backup energy source at hand that's actually remotely useful. We might need to tap into them someday during an emergency, like another invasion."

"Have you thought about Key Energy? I know some people there that would be very happy to have you stop by, even for just a few hours," he suggested with studied nonchalance. "I'm Facebook friends with a few of their engineers."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Key Energy's relatively cutting edge, but I hate their CEO, Matt Hair. He's a pig in intellect, personality, _and_ looks. I don't care how interesting the work might be, I threw his letter straight in the trash."

Seward looked down to separate his vegetables from his noodles. _Had he always been such a weird eater? How hadn't she noticed before_? He took a small bite from each pile. "I also saw a letter from Sheppard Energy on your desk," he said after swallowing, tapping the corners on his mouth with a napkin.

"So?" she asked peevishly. She thought she'd hid that letter so John wouldn't see it and get weird about his dad trying to hire her. This conversation was making her brain start to melt from her ears. Next time, she was driving. Or even better, there wouldn't be a next time. She'd stay firm on her refusal and eat a granola bar at her desk, even if she had to steal one from someone else's drawers. She'd stick tonight out for the promise of coconut ice cream and then be done with this guy.

The last thing she needed in Atlantis was some man interrupting her important research because he was feeling clingy and wanted her to hold his hand while they marathoned _Friends_, _Home Improvement,_ and _Golden Girls_! Well, actually she liked _Golden Girls_. More than she liked Captain Seward, she admitted uncharitably.

Before she could voice the thought and just end the date quickly, he pushed his glass to the side and said, "My cousin works for one of Sheppard Energy's subsidiaries. I made sure to see her last week since we might not make it back from Atlantis. You know how it goes with family."

"Unfortunately," she wrinkled her nose, momentarily distracted by thoughts of Jeannie, Maddie, and the English Major.

"They have some interesting research going on, considering their ignorance of our program. You should check them out." He sent her a smile, emphasizing the scar in his lip again. Initially, she thought it might be fun to lick, but then they'd actually kissed and she'd been not only thoroughly disappointed but also covered in slobber.

"I doubt it's that interesting," she said dismissively, fishing out the lone sugar snap pea on her plate. _Why would they only give her one? Why not at least two? _She took a bite, but there was no snap in her pea, only squish.

"You'd be surprised," he pushed, probably trying to do a favor for his cousin by putting pressure on Meredith to visit_._

Not that she was going to do it since she didn't like Patrick Sheppard, who was not only the CEO of the huge company but also John's sometimes charming but more often tyrannical father. Patrick and John had a rocky relationship. John would rather take orders from strangers than from his dad. Granted, those strangers were military officers charged with protecting the country, but the basic premise stood. John's father also didn't have as many fancy airplanes and opportunities to fly. A corporate jet couldn't compare to the adrenaline rush of a combat helicopter or F-302, much less alien spacecraft.

"Sheppard Energy has a lot of smaller companies under their umbrella," Seward continued his pitch, "from the usual water, coal, and gas to ones that deal with manufacturing and fabrication. Their portfolio's pretty eclectic."

Taking a sip of water, he chuckled. "Last year they even bought up this small toy company because it created a new type of plastic for dolls that also works great for reactor lids."

"Huh." Meredith sat back, vaguely remembering reading about something like that. "What was the company called?"

"Sheppard Energy, Inc." Seward smugly twirled his fork through the air and speared a single noodle.

"No, not them. I meant the toy company with the new plastic." Meredith drummed her fingers on the table.

Fork drooping, he squinted off into the distance. "Something about dresses, I think. MyDress or MaDress, something like that."

"Huh," Meredith said again, her mind racing through the possibilities.

_This might work._

"Okay, I'm done," she said abruptly, putting down her fork. "Can I go?"

Surprise morphed into barely suppressed annoyance. "Do you mind if I finish first?" he gestured at his mostly full plate.

Meredith felt a flash of relief. She stood up. "No, that's fine. I'll call a cab."

Staring up at her with confusion, he asked, "You're just going to leave in the middle of our date?"

"Yes, I'm done." Meredith picked up her purse. "No more dates, even if I'm hungry. Goodbye, Captain."

Striding out of the restaurant, ignoring Seward's incredulous calling of her name, she saw the taillights of a black SUV disappear into the alleyway next to the Tibetan restaurant. She couldn't be sure, but it had looked like it was missing its plates. Goosebumps lifted the hair on her arms. Quickly she stepped back into the doorway.

When nothing more happened, she forced herself to start moving again, sliding into a cab disgorging a couple just before it pulled away from the curb. "Get me out of here fast," she ordered the driver.

When they'd driven for a few minutes without any sign of pursuit, she finally relaxed. "Can you take me through a drive-through real quick and then over to Cheyenne Mountain? Like a Wendy's where I can get a half-decent salad and a small frosty at the same time?"

"No problem, ma'am," the driver said, turning smoothly at the intersection. When no SUVs followed them into the Wendy's parking lot—black or otherwise—she dismissed her paranoia and turned her mind to a new scheme.

* * *

AN: Casting

Dr. Rodney Meredith Mckay (Kate Winslet)

Dr. Troy Forrester (Jude Law)

Capt. Harrison Seward (Joaquin Phoenix)

Sgt. James Kindall (Eric Bana)

Major Alex McLean (Vin Diesel)

Captain Robin King (Lucy Lawless)

Dr. Rigoberto Diaz (Antonio Sabato Jr.)

Dr. Elizabeth Weir (Torri Higginson)

Col. Marsha Sumner (Wendy Davis)

Patrick Sheppard (Brian McNamara)


	7. Chapter 7

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 7**

* * *

"_Rome was ruined more by neglect of agriculture, and giving no attention to useful trade and commerce, than by the invasion of barbarians."_

_-JOE BORD, Science and Whig Manners: Science and Political Style in Britain_

Before 0900 the next morning, Mckay had everything finalized for her trip to Sheppard Energy except for a pilot to fly the plane. She needed to go ASAP. The IOA had to be announcing her as head of sciences for Atlantis any day now. Once that happened, she wouldn't have time for personal side trips.

"Hey, Rome," John drawled, leaning in the doorway with his trademark sexy but aggravating slouch.

Meredith didn't bother giving him more than a quick glance. "You're late. That's forgivable because I've been on the phone, but now I need you to fly me to Chicago, Major."

"Not possible," John said casually.

"Why not?" She sent him a scowl.

"Because I'm not a Major," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Worry twisted through her chest. "Did you do something stupid and get kicked out? I can probably swing you a civilian support position in my math department, especially with your Ancient genes. They give me a lot of latitude to pick personnel. I don't mind blackmailing a few people for you either."

John looked at her incredulously. "I didn't get kicked out, genius; I got promoted to Lt. Colonel." He tapped the silver oak leaves now decorating his uniform.

"Oh, congratulations!" she said, genuinely happy for him. However… "Does that mean you can't fly me to Chicago? Is a Colonel too important to play chauffeur? I have a plane, I just need a pilot. Please? Don't make me use strangers. I'd probably break them."

Grinning and shaking his head, John strolled into her lab. "Nah, I'll take pity on the guy and fly you. I just have to get approval. My new CO doesn't know what to do with me and disapproves of my promotion, so luckily for you, she's leaving me attached to Gate team support and the sciences for now." John's lips twisted.

Meredith's heart dropped. Putting a hand on her stomach, she swallowed hard. "She? The IOA chose Colonel Sumner for Atlantis?"

Expression turning awkward, John picked up the Ancient hexagonal alarm clock and started fiddling, making it project the time, moon cycle, and local weather onto the wall in Ancient glyphs. "I thought you'd have heard. Sumner officially accepted command yesterday and they announced it first thing this morning."

Suddenly the deserted state of her lab and the way certain people had avoided her eyes last night when she'd returned to work after her boring final date with Seward made so much more sense, the traitors. She hadn't read any non-essential emails but those from her travel agent and an engineering question from an old teacher living in Hong Kong.

John kept fiddling with the Ancient clock, more focused on his own problems than the implications for her career. "The IOA want me as 2IC in Atlantis, which is just crazy. I don't want to be in charge of anyone—a situation Colonel Sumner heartily agrees with—but the more I get to know the guys going the more I feel responsible. I want this promotion but not the change that's coming with it." He frowned.

Shaking his head, John cleared his throat. "The next most senior officer is Lt. Ford, who I've been training with in SG-15. He's a good man with a lot of potential but he's also very green with minimal command experience. Sumner would prefer a Marine like Lt. Ford for her 2IC and seems to think we'll be walking into an abandoned city with minimal threats, but I'm not so optimistic…." John frowned down at the clock in his hand, unconsciously making the readouts read thunderstorms at midnight.

Running a hand through his hair, it spiked up messily. "O'Neill introduced me to Sumner and some IOA reps after my promotion yesterday, but swore me to secrecy until the official announcement this morning."

"Even from me?" she grumbled.

"Last I checked you aren't in my chain of command, Mckay." John gave her a look.

Meredith conceded with a tip of her head.

"The IOA want me going to Atlantis because of my Ancient supergenes, which are some of the most powerful in the entire program."

"I know," Meredith sighed with jealousy. The things she could do with genes like his.

Lips twisting, John traced his thumbnail over a glyph on the Ancient clock. "There's going to be a lot of Ancient technology in Atlantis but they need O'Neill here on Earth. I'm the disposable spare." He shrugged and looked away across the room. "The IOA also weren't subtle about implying in front of everyone that my promotion came mostly because they wanted a male out there who's rank visibly matched Sumner's. As you can imagine, that went over like a lead balloon with my new CO. This morning I had the joy of getting pulled aside first thing by Colonel Sumner so she could let me know that I didn't deserve a promotion, that she'd prefer to leave me behind, and that I was lucky I hadn't been discharged with the things in my record. She didn't mince any words." His knuckles went white around the hexagonal clock.

Frowning, Meredith clarified, "Because you went off without orders in Afghanistan to try and save your friend who'd been shot down? And how you got to him but he died anyway and they couldn't make any charges stick so they sent you to exile in Antarctica instead?"

"Rome," John choked out unhappily, his face and posture closing down.

Wincing, she lifted her chin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud or at least, not to hurt you by saying it out loud. You're an amazing person and for what it's worth, I think you did the right thing for your friend. I'm just bitter and distracted by news of Sumner and self-centered and have no filter and you know that about me already so… I'm sorry for your loss and for other people being unfairly judgmental about it."

John blew out a breath. "Yeah," he shrugged. His fingers rubbed across the illuminated lines on the clock. "I did want to tell you about my promotion yesterday, but I had work to do and then you disappeared off-base on another date with Sewer."

"Our last, hopefully," she said, sunk once more into despair at the selection of Sumner, filling two of the three command spots with females. "Congrats again on the promotion and sorry for the crappy CO, but at least you're guaranteed a spot in Atlantis. If they give the sciences to some odious man, do you think you could sneak me in as a military private?" Sitting up, she snapped her fingers. "Wait, make that a captain. I don't want to be some lowly private."

"No one is going to believe you're in the military, Rome." John shook his head and tossed the clock from hand to hand. "You can't hide who you are."

Folding her hands behind her neck, she ignored the tight feeling in her chest. "That's true. Genius will out. The foremost expert on Ancient technology is obviously the one to send to Atlantis. It's illogical to choose anyone else." She felt comforted by her own logic. She just had to keep reminding people of all her good qualities so they didn't get overlooked. "In fact, I'll have to make sure to schedule a meeting with Sumner and Weir when we get back from Chicago in anticipation of the announcement. They're probably just as impatient as I am to get the ball rolling on things. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they announce my name, right?"

Looking down to place the Ancient clock on her desk, John let the hexagon go dark. "I have to check in with Sumner and O'Neill before we leave for Chicago. Did you requisition some security for your trip?"

Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Why? I don't want some random soldier hanging around, bored out of his mind and touching my stuff. You'll be there. That should be enough if someone decides to get rough with me."

"I appreciate your trust, but I can't take on an entire team all alone, like the ones who ride around in black SUVs and try to kidnap scientists from the SGC." John bared his teeth in an unamused smile. "I had the report routed to me after you mentioned it at lunch."

"Hypothetical kidnappers," Meredith defended. "There's no evidence that it was anything more than a random SUV with tinted windows and missing plates traveling in the same direction."

"Rome, do you want to be kidnapped? Again?" he asked pointedly. "I read about that, too."

Rising memories made her flinch. He couldn't be talking about the first time. No one had access to the uncensored truth of that but O'Neill and her doctor and they'd promised not to write those details down. John must mean her second kidnapping and rescue by Kindall.

Meredith exhaled and put on a confident mask, cutting her hands through the air. "Don't be stupid, of course I don't want to be kidnapped again! I want to be protected, I just don't want to lose my freedoms and live in fear. More fear. I have lots of fears about lots of things already."

"Rome—"

"I also hate how the security guys are so humorless and condescending. They get in the way and have fun inconveniencing me, complaining about me when my back is turned, as if my ears don't work just fine. The general made me take a whole team on my last visit Jeannie, Maddie, and the English major. It was awful! Don't make me put up with that again."

"Rome, I'll find some good people to bring with us," John promised soothingly.

"One," she pushed. "We're going to be spending most of our time in a heavily guarded research facility and then we'll be coming straight back here. We can even have their security pick us up at the airport."

Pursing his lips, John looked up at the ceiling and sighed gustily. "Fine, one, but we aren't leaving the plane until they get there."

"Deal." Meredith nodded, smug at mostly getting her way.

Sitting on the edge of her desk, John swung his leg. "Just who are you going to visit in Chicago, anyway? I'm guessing it's not Nancy." He smiled darkly at his own joke as if either of them wanted to see his ex.

Meredith really hoped John didn't want to see his ex.

"You're not going to back out?" she crossed her arms and tried to hide her fidgeting.

"Ro-ome," John drew out her name, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Okay, so I know it's tactless because of your daddy issues, but I need to go to Sheppard Energy," she spit out, looking up at him pleadingly.

John jerked, slipping off the edge of her desk and almost falling to the floor. "Why are you visiting my father?"

"I'm not visiting him; I'm visiting with a few of his execs, a subsidiary, and the scientists in his research labs. I'm going to help his people figure out how to revolutionize energy production so the program will have extra backup power down the road. That and to improve the life of the common man, of course," she pontificated. "First America, then Canada, and then the world."

Putting his hands in his pockets, John's lips thinned. "Just how long are you planning on staying in Chicago?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure the main issue they want me to consult on is something I figured out years ago," she waved her hand. "Depending on if they have anything else interesting, we'll stay the night and come back tomorrow morning or afternoon at the latest. It'll be easy-peasy. C'mon John, don't make me put up with someone else. Please?"

A muscle above his eyebrow began twitching. He stared at her face. Meredith held her breath and tried to look pitiful.

"Fine," he said in an explosion of air, "but I haven't talked to my father since I divorced. He disowned me—again—for choosing the military life over Nancy and his company. My brother went quiet on me too. I'll go, but it'll be awkward."

Meredith fought back a victorious smile. "That's fine. I'm not going to make you talk to them. To be honest, I don't want to talk to your dad either. Sheppard Energy just has access to people I need and the leverage to make them do what I want quickly. We'll be in and out in a day. I doubt Patrick'll even realize that my pilot and bodyguard is his son."

John rolled his eyes. "Because it's been so long he won't recognize me? He's not an idiot, Rome."

Scowling, she rolled her eyes back. "I meant because he'll be so dazzled greeting me and then passing me off to his assistants that he won't look past the uniforms at my back to see any faces."

"You're not that dazzling." John arched one eyebrow.

"I am too! I'm one of the smartest people on this entire planet. When I let down my golden hair, put on a little makeup, and start talking science," she made her voice go husky, batting her eyes and sending him a sultry look, "I make men go weak in the knees."

John's eyes lit up at her antics. He even looked, dare she say it, a little dazzled.

"I'd prefer to take off in an hour, two at most," Meredith said, feeling strangely breathless beneath the weight of his stare. "Does that work?"

John's lips curved in a slow smile. "I suppose so. I have to go along now if only to see your annual attempt at wearing makeup."

Their eyes met and held in challenge. The air seemed to crackle with heat as the gaze turned into something more. John's eyes dilated and Meredith parted her lips on a sudden need for more oxygen.

The door opened and thudded against the wall. Miko and the Czech walked in, mid-conversation. The tension broke.

John and Meredith looked at opposite sides of the room.

"Send me your trip details," John ordered, a hint of gravel in his voice. "I'll get us cleared and grab someone I like for security. I assume you'll be paying for the car, food, and hotel on your dime?"

"I could since I'm rich, but I hate spending my money when I can make other people spend theirs, especially people I don't like. Sheppard Energy will pay for nice rooms and a car. You guys won't have to pay a cent. If any other costs come up, I'll deal with them," she waved her hand airily.

"Sounds good." He knocked on her desk, waved at the other scientists, and left.

Meredith turned back to her computer, feeling unusually warm.

She needed to catch up on all her emails before they had to leave, especially any gossip about the Atlantis Expedition. There had to be more ways to impress the IOA. Why hadn't they tried to meet with her while they'd been in the mountain?

No matter, she'd have other chances. People often had trouble seeing her value. That's why she had to constantly point it out.

Visiting Sheppard Energy should be a simple trip to get what she wanted, give them a little bit of what they wanted, impress the IOA, and then get out. No problems.

She'd intended to give herself an hour to get ready, but the emails about Atlantis had tripled after Colonel Sumner's appointment. Meredith had gotten lost in reading and sending CAPSLOCK-y replies, so much so that now she was on the verge of being late. Turning off her computer, she half-jogged to the elevator leading to the residential floors.

"The things I do for that man," Meredith muttered a few minutes later as she drew on eyeliner in her quarters on base. She had an apartment in town but often worked late, so she only slept there a few times a month. Luckily the military had no problem putting aside private quarters on base for her to sleep in.

With only twenty minutes to go before she had to leave for Chicago, Meredith had unearthed her dusty makeup case and started transforming herself from a marginally pretty woman with thin blond hair tied up on top of her head into an almost beautiful woman with thin blond hair down around her shoulders. The geek to sleek transformation would work better if she wore glasses, but since she was an amazing genius no matter what she looked like and the glasses cliche was stupid, this would have to do.

She hadn't initially planned on wearing more than mascara and tinted lip gloss, but then she'd started flirting with John and things had gotten out of hand. It shouldn't matter, but she wanted John to see her as a beautiful woman in addition to a genius friend. As a personal preference, Meredith rarely wore much if any makeup. Unfortunately, you sometimes had to make exceptions for strangers and too-familiar friends.

At least it might serve the double purpose of making the male execs of Sheppard Energy and MadiDress give in more quickly to her demands. She'd get what she wanted one way or another, but men seemed to respond more quickly to her lipsticked smile than to logic.

*_Ring Ring_*

Not checking the caller ID, she flipped her cell phone open and pressed it to her ear. "What? I still have fifteen minutes."

"Distracted as usual," drawled a warm and much-despised British voice. "This is Troy, Meredith. Your husband."

"EX-husband, I'm not that distracted," she growled, putting on her mascara quickly before he said something that made her accidentally poke out her eye. "And call me Dr. Mckay, not Meredith. Who do I need to fire for giving you this number and what do you want?"

Troy's loud sigh carried clearly over the line. "This is a professional call about work from Dr. Forrester to the de facto head of Ancient Research stateside, but on a personal note, you need to get over your irrational anger, darling, and stop being so emotional. It's been years. I know I made a mistake, but you're far from perfect either. That mission to Manudia made it a non-issue for both of us. Move on. You know I never wanted to get divorced. Deep down, you still love me too. It's not too late to fix us."

Volcanic rage made her cheeks burn and her eyes narrow to slits. She could hear the blood pounding through her veins like steel-shod steeds. "I hate you. I will never forgive you for what you put me through. You violated my trust and fled the planet, forcing me to go on that mission where I had to pay for your actions over and over again!" Her voice went low and ragged. "I'm still paying. It's only because of the pleadings of several people I actually respect on behalf of the planet's safety in the face of alien threats that's kept me from having you killed."

Through the phone, she heard Troy scoff.

Meredith's voice went silky with threat. "Don't you remember our conversation with O'Neill where you refused to come back through the gate for the mission to Manudia despite the risks? You admitted to both of us what you'd done. When I finally got back, I found the name of a good contractor in the private sector, one who'd get rid of you permanently. O'Neill and General Hammond caught me at the last second. I think O'Neill would've looked the other way, but Hammond trapped me in a room and talked worst-case scenarios from the potential end of my career to the destruction of the planet by alien forces until I gave in. That's the only reason you're still alive," she ended with a hiss.

"Oh, come now, Meredith. Death threats?" Despite his words, Troy sounded spooked. "Wasn't bankrupting me, erasing my existence from all physical and digital records, and then getting me thrown into prison in southeast Asia enough revenge for you?"

The recitation made her ruby red lips twist into an evil smile. "No."

Returning her makeup to the bag, she zipped it closed. "By the way, do you remember my friend John Sheppard? You two never really got along. He's a Colonel in the SGC now with an Ancient gene as strong as O'Neill's."

"He has the—does he know? About what… happened?" Troy was probably fiddling with his glasses right now. He always did that when nervous.

Meredith let him stew for a moment before answering. "No, I don't need him to fight my battles for me. If you get beaten to a pulp and die, I want to be there to gloat about it. John would take revenge and leave me to find out later in some chauvinistic attempt to protect my imaginary delicate feelings." She bared her teeth in a mirthless smile. "You're safe. For now."

Uncomfortable silence drifted down the line.

Scooping up her makeup bag, she tucked it into her suitcase and zipped it up. "I'm boarding a plane to Chicago for a meeting in five minutes. As the head of Ancient Research, tell me what your work issue is now or I'm hanging up. I'll probably hang up anyway, so talk fast." Snatching up her jacket, she locked her quarters and stomped away down the hall.

"Do try to stay professional, Meredith. I have two things to discuss with you, so you need to stay on the line for both," Troy ordered, his upper-crust accent rolling commandingly through the phone in a way that made her want to hang up just to be contrary.

Unfortunately, she was a professional. "I'm waiting," she growled, pushing the button hard for the ground floor in the elevator. The tip of her finger went white.

Finally, he began explaining. "We had an accident at the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica. A gene carrier got spooked and accidentally activated a drone. It shot down a helicopter from McMurdo—the nearby military base—in an accident eerily similar to what I heard happened to you in Nevada with General O'Neill."

Meredith's breath caught in remembered fear. Thank goodness John had been flying that day and no one had gotten hurt. "Was anyone killed?" she asked tightly, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor.

"No," Troy answered quickly. "Luckily the pilot managed to bail out. The cargo's gone and he'll need a few months to recover in the ICU, but he's alive."

Frustration and anger built in Meredith's gut, making her forget she was speaking to anyone except a colleague. Troy had once been an excellent colleague. If only he hadn't ruined that by marrying her and then betraying her trust.

"I know we're at war here, but our scientists are being pushed too hard by the military. Half are exhilarated by the new discoveries and half terrified by the alien threats, but they're all ignoring basic safety protocols. Everyone takes Drs. Jackson and Carter from SG-1 as examples, which is just a horrible idea," she said.

Troy snorted. "Don't I know it. The military holds SG-1 up as the ideal and the norm. They push the other scientists to discard safety checks and cut corners even during routine functions. We've both seen that."

Humming in agreement, Meredith fell into the ease of discussion that had led her to mistakenly marry the man in the first place. "SG-1 is brilliant out in the field, but they often break the rules. People forget that the rules are there for a good reason. In the middle of an emergency, yes, do what you have to do to save people with the least cost, but not on a Thursday afternoon just so you can make happy hour at the local dive bar."

Blowing out a breath, she exited the elevator when the doors opened, rolling her suitcase out with a _clunk clunk_. "We've had too many accidents this year. I hate to say it, but we're going to have to make everyone go through mandatory safety training again with stiff penalties for those who skip it. I'll have a committee put something together. Mistakes like this could be catastrophic in an isolated environment like Atlantis. The SGC has to get a lid on this before I leave with the expedition. Not to mention—wait, hold on for a second."

Mckay muted the phone as Sergeant Kindall came trotting up. "Do you have it?" she demanded.

"Yes, but you didn't explain why you needed it," Kindall complained, passing over an envelope. "Is this for our project or something else?"

"Later, I've got a plane to catch. See you in a few days." Waving him off, she tucked the envelope into her bag, unmuted the phone, and kept walking. "OK, Troy, I'm back." Kindall gave a soft growl and took off in the opposite direction.

"Right, well I agree on the safety recommendation, though everyone's going to hate you even more than they already do for the extra training. Up here in Antarctica, I've already instituted changes so an accidental drone release won't happen again," Troy bragged as she exited the guard post on the ground floor. "I emailed you the details and CC'd Command in case you wanted to copy my wording. However, that brings up the second thing I wanted to talk about: Atlantis."

Meredith's hand tightened on the strap of her bag. "You and I don't have anything to discuss about Atlantis."

Troy tutted. "You have to know that the IOA is going to choose me."

Meredith scoffed and stepped out into the sunshine of the parking lot. A security guard held open the door so she could wheel her small suitcase out without trouble.

Troy spoke louder. "With Weir and Sumner already confirmed, it's only a matter of time before they announce my name. They don't want three women in charge. Most of them aren't happy having even two. You have to know they won't choose you now."

"I'm the most qualified!" she hissed, his words tapping her deepest fears.

"For now," Troy said with gentle condescension. "Once I'm in Atlantis, I'll have access to information lightyears beyond anything available to you here. You should brace yourself to be my pupil when I get back because you are going to be behind. It's inevitable, Meredith." His gall choked the words burning in her throat. "Prepare to send me everything you have on recharging ZPMs. The IOA has prioritized that research to help power our fight against the Ori."

"It's my research and I'll be the one completing it as the Head of Sciences in Atlantis. Not you!" It felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest. "I'd burn my notes first!"

"You aren't that petty when it comes to knowledge," Troy said smugly, the leather of his chair creaking through the phone. "You act tough, but I know you, Darling. You're intelligent, but that's about it. You get hysterical, break easily, and are ridiculously loyal. Deep down, you'll do anything for the people and things you care about. Admittedly, very little makes that list considering your self-centeredness, but your sister's family, Sheppard, and this planet in general matter to you. I was up there once and probably will be again. When I'm appointed head, I'll send you a list of what I need to make sure the Atlantis mission succeeds. Since your Sheppard—as a gene carrier—will probably be coming with me, I know you'll want to make sure I'm as ready as can be to keep him and Atlantis safe. After a few years, I might even be able to get you out there as my assistant or spouse. Ta."

"Oh yeah? Well let me tell you—" About to release the diatribe kicking a hole through her gut, Meredith heard the disconnect tone. Troy had hung up on her.

Clenching her fists, Meredith screamed at the sky in frustration and chucked the phone as hard as she could. It arched through the air and smashed into pieces on the pavement, sending shrapnel flying in multiple directions. It didn't help. She stomped her foot.

The guards at the door looked uneasy, their guns lifting into ready positions. They were probably worried this was the start of another foothold situation. Meredith tried breathing through her nose to calm down so she didn't do anything that might get her shot. A guard spoke softly into his radio.

A young-looking lieutenant hesitantly came closer. He looked like a farm boy approaching an angry bull. "Dr. Mckay? Is everything alright?"

Just then, a car came rolling to a stop and Sheppard popped out. "What's going on, Mckay?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"You threw your phone pretty far, Ma'am," the lieutenant said stubbornly. "Is there a security threat we should be aware of? Are you feeling okay? Have you had any strange urges or unexplained losses of time?"

Meredith flung her hands up into the air. "No! I'm sorry, alright? It was my ex-husband. He said something to piss me off and then hung up on me." Turning to the farmboy, she told him earnestly, "Don't ever get yourself one of those. Ex-husbands are terrible."

"No, Ma'am," the lieutenant said with a blush, relaxing back at her explanation.

Coming up next to her, John grabbed her luggage and jacket, leaving her with the purse. "Considering the DADT regulations, I don't think that's something these boys need to worry about anytime soon." He nudged her with his elbow to get her walking towards the car. The farmboy turned an even brighter red and returned to his post.

"He knows that's not what I meant," Mckay said crossly.

"Sure." Putting her things in the trunk, John spoke over his shoulder, "By the way, you look nice."

"No, don't bother noticing now. I don't care about being pretty anymore. I'm just mad." Sliding into the car, Meredith added, "And you're never allowed to get married again. It led to me marrying Troy, one of the stupidest things I've ever done. If you got married again, it might infect me and the planet can't afford for me to be that stupid twice."

John sent her a sideways smile. "I'll promise if you will."

Caught off guard by the power of his smile, she fumbled her seatbelt and had to look down to get it into the latch. Just what did he mean by that?

Before she could demand an explanation, the door on the other side of the car opened and Mr. Clean slid into the backseat. "Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Mckay," the bald marine greeted in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Thanks for coming along, Major McLean," John greeted, turning on the car and taking off for the airport where she had a private plane waiting.

"Wait, Sheppard! I thought you said you'd find someone who liked me for security!" She folded her arms and glared at John.

"We don't have to go. You're the one who wants to visit Chicago. I said I'd find someone good. The major is good and I like him." John shrugged and turned towards the highway. "I know I can trust him to keep you safe, no matter his personal feelings."

"It's not like this is a date," the Major said, flashing his teeth mirthlessly, "though you are wearing makeup, Mckay. I didn't realize you knew how to look like a real woman."

"As opposed to what?" she challenged, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Newsflash, Major, there are real women all over the world who never wear makeup. And others who choose to wear it all the time. Neither clothes nor makeup defines a woman's worth, but then again, only a real man would know that. What does that make you?"

John cleared his throat meaningfully. "A member of your security team, Mckay, and a man I expect to take a bullet for you if necessary." He glanced over his shoulder. "You still up to the challenge, Major? Or do I need to switch you out for that cornfed lieutenant at the gate?"

Meredith looked over to see McLean's response.

"I know my duty, Colonel," he growled. Blowing out a breath, he leaned forward and met Meredith's eyes, features even. "I'll keep you safe, Doc. My word on it."

As a big, burly marine, it was hard to doubt his sincerity. Besides, she was used to trusting the military to watch her back no matter how they felt about her personally. "Okay," she said simply. "But there's just one more thing."

His mouth tightened. "What?"

"I need to use your phone," she answered.

Blinking in confusion, he tilted his head. "What happened to yours?"

"I threw it across the parking lot in a fit of rage." She waved her hand dismissively. "I need to get a new one. I'll call my agent at the airport and have one waiting for me when we get there. You want anything?"

"Like a Snickers bar?" he asked in confusion.

"Sure, anything as long as it's not citrus, so gimme." She reached back between the seats and wiggled her fingers demandingly.

Shaking his head, he nevertheless pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and passed it over. "Thanks," she said absently, sitting back and dialing the numbers she needed from memory. Considering what she paid her agent at the airport, the woman was happy to have a new phone and snack basket—including a Snickers bar—waiting for them inside the plane. "You want anything?" she asked John belatedly, pressing the phone to her chest.

"Besides staying here?" He jerked the car to a stop next to the hanger, making the seatbelt bite into her chest.

Irritated, she frowned. "Besides that." Closing the phone, she tossed it to the major in the back seat.

"No." John's expression had gone flat. Nevertheless, he turned off the car and got out instead of racing away from the upcoming family interaction.

As they boarded the rental plane, Mckay's mind started churning out statistics for all of the ways she was probably about to die. Even with John as a pilot, too many things could go wrong when flying. She thought longingly of the Xanax in her bag, but couldn't risk it fogging her mind during her meetings. Getting out her _Serenity _aromatherapy bottle, she took a deep whiff, uncapped a green pen, and tried to lose herself in the newest issue of _Materials Science and Engineering_.

John finished his pre-flight checklist and the plane took off for Chicago.


	8. Chapter 8

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 8**

* * *

"_Every one soon or late comes round by Rome." _

_-ROBERT BROWNING, English Poet_

Less than three hours later, the plane rolled to a stop in Chicago. Mckay sent a quick text to Patrick Sheppard's assistant and gathered up her things. Mr. Clean moved the completely demolished snack basket off his lap and stood up to crack his neck. She hoped the food would make him less annoying.

Within a minute, Mckay's phone dinged with a reply. She read the pertinent bit out loud to John, "The company has a van parked outside the hangar with a security team and company liaison."

Jaw tense, John stood up and stomped to the exit. "Stay in the plane until McLean and I check things out." Obviously, he wasn't thrilled about seeing his family again. She felt sympathetic—her relationship with Jeannie could be difficult too—and grateful that he'd agreed to come with her anyway. She hoped it would all go according to plan. Meredith wanted a smooth and efficient visit.

As John walked past her seat, he unstrapped the gun holster on his thigh. It was totally unfair how sexy that looked. Mr. Clean was objectively handsome—if you ignored his awful personality—but he did nothing to her pulse rate. Not like John Sheppard. That whole family was unfairly attractive.

The two soldiers checked the private hangar for security threats. They exchanged some arcane hand signals and then the major opened the back door to talk to the team from Sheppard Energy while John moved back to circle the plane.

Belatedly Meredith remembered that her promise to keep John in the background meant being dazzling. Rifling through her bag, she reapplied her ruby red lipstick. She needed to smile charmingly at the company reps and keep their attention, no matter how clammy their hands. It should be fine. _After all, _w_hat're the odds that some random security guard or assistant would recognize the prodigal Sheppard son?_

Standing up, she stretched. Adjusting her jacket, she tried to smooth down the wrinkles on her clothes. "Can I come out now?" she called out the door.

Instead of responding vocally, John silently waved her out and continued stalking around the shadowed edges of the hangar. If he'd had a cape and a mask, he could've passed for Batman. He certainly had the brooding look down pat.

McLean finished his chat with the security men at the door and let them inside. Two of them waited for her to reach the bottom of the stairs before going up into the plane to fetch everyone's luggage. Another took up station just inside the hangar door.

As Meredith walked forward, a familiar handsome man in a bespoke suit stepped through the door, immediately locking onto her with piercing green eyes. "Dr. Meredith Mckay, it's been too long. You're even more beautiful than the last time we met." His lips tilted into a warm smile. "Probably even smarter too."

"Dave Sheppard?" She tilted her head in surprised pleasure. "There's no probably about it, but I didn't expect you to meet me. I expected some forgettable assistant."

Abruptly she remembered John. Jumping forward, she grabbed Dave's arm and turned him forcefully towards the door. "Are you still married to that blond firecracker or do I finally have a chance at that dinner you once offered me?" She smiled up at Dave for all she was worth, hoping it didn't come off as demented.

Chuckling, Dave patted her hand and they left the hangar, security falling in behind them. "As tempting as you still are, I have the pleasure of reporting that I'm still with Vicki. We have two kids now, Jeremiah at six and Kathleen at three. Jeremiah won the kindergarten science fair this year."

The bright sunlight after the shadows of the hangar hurt her eyes. Meredith squinted. Farther down the building waited the limousine and an SUV for security. "I'm glad to hear you're raising the kids right," she said with a firm nod. "There's nothing more important than science for a growing mind. If he ever wants to try building a non-working atomic bomb, I think I still have my sixth-grade science fair notes."

Dave shook his head incredulously. "Seriously? Wait, I don't think I want to know. I'm just going to say no in advance. Vicki would kill us both. John would probably laugh, though."

Hesitating for a second, Dave licked his lips. "Speaking of John, have you heard anything from him recently? We were hoping you'd have some news."

Mind spinning, Meredith drew a blank on what the appropriate social response would be considering the man padding ten feet behind her. "This is awkward. Are you going to be awkward? Your dad will probably be awkward. I don't know why, but he never liked me. I mean, obviously he likes my big brains and the amazing things I'm about to do for his company, but I don't think he ever liked _me_."

Wincing, Dave drew to a stop. "I'm sorry, Meredith. Dr. Mckay." He took a deep breath. "This is a professional visit. I don't mean to make you feel awkward. On behalf of our family, though, I'd like to offer you a personal apology and then we can stick to business if that's alright?"

At her cautious nod, Dave dropped her arm and took a step back, crossing his arms behind his back in a curious imitation of parade rest. "My father told me this morning why you didn't show up to John's wedding all those years ago, that Nancy canceled all of your reservations and that he knew, but deliberately didn't say anything, hiding it from John and the rest of us. I had no idea."

His forehead did that unhappy crease, just like John's. "Please accept my most sincere apologies. You didn't deserve such disrespect and duplicity. I told my father that it's a minor miracle that you agreed to consult with us at all, no matter how much money he's offering. He's been trying to get ahold of you for months and intends to offer you a personal apology unless you'd prefer not to see him during your visit."

Being much more used to angry insults than sincere apologies, Meredith now felt like the awkward one. "No, that's fine. I wasn't sure if I'd see any Sheppards, to be honest, but I knew it was a possibility. I'm used to dealing with unpleasant people professionally… not that I'm saying you and your father are unpleasant!"

Wincing, Meredith rubbed the side of her face. "Look, I really am here to do business, but there's still a problem. One more awkward problem," she paused and nibbled on her ruby red lips. She belatedly remembered that red lipstick stained teeth and tried to decide if she could get away with wiping her front teeth with her fingers.

"What's that?" Dave asked, determination to make it right in his face.

"Me," John strolled forward, stopping next to Meredith with a hand cocked on his hip. His mirrored shades hid the expression in his eyes. Although the rest of his face looked at ease, even mildly amused, his body screamed with tension. "Hi, Dave."

_So. Awkward._

Eyes widening, Dave swallowed. "John."

"I'm here as Mckay's _military_ security escort," John told him.

From what Meredith understood, John joining the Air Force after high school and then refusing to quit to work at the family company had been the first and biggest cause of estrangement between his family and himself. It had eventually led to his being disowned. Twice. His often competitive relationship with his little brother had always been complicated, but she'd tried to keep her nose out of it. Messy emotions weren't her forte.

"You're always welcome here, John, you know that," Dave said evenly.

John raised a skeptical brow. "Am I? Because that's not what I was led to believe."

Dave fisted his hands to his sides and lowered his chin. "What do you want, John? Are you here to take the company from me?"

John's lips tightened. He took the mirrored shades off and dropped them in his breast pocket as if giving himself time to decide on a response. "You're still fighting shadows and wraiths if you think that. All I ever wanted to do was fly. I'm a Colonel now and doing things we used to dream about when playing with action figures behind the horse barn. I've flown machines that make grown men weep with envy." Stepping forward, he looked his brother straight in the eye. "I never wanted the company."

"Then why did you come?" Dave asked, searching his brother's face.

"Because Rome asked," John said simply.

It made Meredith feel almost humble.

After another moment of silent searching, Dave nodded and dropped his eyes. He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, mussing it, before looking over at Meredith with a small, crooked smile. "'_Everyone soon or late comes round by Rome_.'"

Flicking a look at John beneath his lashes, he added softly. "Dad knows that quote too. He was banking on it."

John looked away.

Meredith felt awkward. She wondered if she should be offended by the implication that she was being used as a means to flush out John. Then again, she was here to use Sheppard Energy to flush out her prey too.

Turning to his brother, Dave cleared his throat and offered his hand, "Welcome to Sheppard Energy, Colonel."

Expression softening, John took Dave's hand and the two brothers fell into a hug. It lasted bare seconds before they separated. "You'll have to tell me about your kids in the car," John said awkwardly.

"I have pictures," Dave warned with an equally awkward smile. At John's nod, Dave ushered the three visitors into the waiting limo. Mr. Clean silently moved to the back and kept watch outside the window. "We'll go straight to the company and drop you off at the hotel tonight. Your things will be waiting for you there. We've booked you a suite. However, before I start boring you with photos," he looked over, "Meredith, I have a small gift to welcome you to Chicago again." Dave nodded to a small green box on the leather seat.

"Is this…?" Delighted, she pulled it into her lap and lifted the lid. Four perfect, glistening brown and green peppermint truffles shone up at her.

Dave grinned. "I remember you enjoying those the first time we met. The way you licked the drizzles of peppermint off your lips may have been what gave me the courage to try and ask you out despite John's evil glares."

"Does Vicki know you talk that way to other women?" John growled.

Kicking John's foot, Meredith sent Dave a smile. "Dave's just being sweet. He's allowed to give me chocolate whenever he likes. Maybe you should take notes, John."

Sending his brother a superior look, Dave pulled out his phone and the promised baby pictures. After a perfunctory look at the kids, Mckay popped a truffle in her mouth and retreated to answer emails on her phone and make sure no one did anything too stupid while she was gone. Glancing up a few minutes later, she saw a look of quiet happiness on John's face as he and his brother talked quietly.

It made her feel quite smug.

When they turned into the gate for Sheppard Energy's main complex in Chicago, John looked up at the sign bearing his family's name with trepidation. The gate was up and the guard booth was manned by a friendly-looking woman in her fifties. Abruptly leaning forward, Mr. Clean asked about the security on site. Dave explained that the guard scanned license plates and stopped and checked IDs for those not in the system. At night the gates were closed and required an employee badge to open. The large complex housed offices, R&D, and manufacturing. The lawns were immaculate, the parking lot paint crisp, and the tall stone buildings imposing.

Meredith could see how someone like John Sheppard, who occasionally colored outside the lines, would not find this a welcoming place. Though he had survived in the military, which was sometimes equally incomprehensible.

John's sprawl had turned to into stiffness and nervous energy. As soon as the limo stopped, John and the major jumped out of the car and checked the front of the building for threats before letting her out. It seemed like overkill to Meredith. She wanted to be kept safe, but she also wanted to get going now. The limo was boring.

Once inside, Dave used his badge to take them through several locked doors. The deeper they'd gone in the building, the tenser John had become. He was strung tighter than a violin bow.

As they walked down a wide hallway, Meredith glanced over at a tall woman reading through a page of equations while waiting for the elevator. The buttons on her shirt gleamed in the reflected light of the elevator buttons. The pattern caught Meredith's eye. She veered away from her escort towards the woman. "Excuse me."

"Yes?" The woman looked over, arching a thin eyebrow with mild annoyance. Short blond hair slicked back from her face, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and a Slavic ancestry.

"I want your shirt." Meredith gestured. At the woman's look of confusion and budding outrage, Mckay elaborated. "I saw from down the hall that your button-up has torx, hex, flat, and Phillips screw heads for buttons. I'm an engineer—and astrophysicist—but the engineering is what's relevant here. Where can I get one? It's awesome."

Relaxing, the woman leaned forward with a grin. "It is awesome. I got it at a quirky boutique called _To STEM the Tide _about a mile south of here. Did you notice that the pinstripes are actually little screwdrivers?"

"Oh, now I definitely have to have one," Meredith cooed, leaning forward to see all the details. Looking around, she snapped her fingers in the air. "Dave, can you add one of these shirts to my contract? Size medium?"

Mr. Clean was looking at her with disapproval and incredulity.

John blinked at her with bemusement. She liked that better than seeing him blank-faced with nerves.

The other woman straightened with a blush. "Oh, Mr. Sheppard, I didn't see you there."

Dave chuckled but gamely took out his Blackberry. "I suppose I can send my assistant out for one. Where did this amazing shirt come from again?" He took down the details and thanked the woman.

"Can I see your paper for a second?" Meredith asked the woman. One of the equations looked familiar. The blond passed it over curiously. Pulling out a green pen, Meredith crossed out several lines and scribbled furiously. The woman's face became pinched and her fingers hovered in midair just waiting to yank the paper away. At last, Meredith capped her pen and returned the paper. "This is good work. If you ever get tired of this place, contact me. Thanks for the shirt."

Turning to Dave, she flicked her fingers. "Lead the way."

Over the ding of the elevator, Meredith heard the woman curse in awed Russian. Being exiled to a Siberian research station had taught Meredith a lot of swear words in Russian, Mongolian, and even Eskimo. "I've been struggling with this for weeks and you fixed it just like that! This math is beautiful. Just who are you?" The woman called.

"Dr. R.M. Mckay, pleased to meet you," Meredith said smugly over her shoulder. It was always nice to be appreciated.

Dave directed them around the corner and through a doorway into a conference room. "We had a light lunch set up for you in here. Nothing has citrus," Dave reassured her. "The meeting to finalize the terms of your consultation contract can start down the hall whenever you finish. As soon as everyone agrees to the terms and signs, I'll take you over to R&D to get started."

"I just need a granola bar and I'm good to go," Mckay said, bouncing on her toes.

"How about an apple and sandwich instead," John nagged. "Once you get in the lab, you won't want to stop for dinner."

"I suppose," she said, impatient to get going but knowing he was right. She turned to the table and filled a plate.

The doors swung open just as she swallowed the last bite of her egg salad sandwich. Looking up, she saw Patrick Sheppard standing framed in the doorway. The Sheppard patriarch had a strong jaw, intense blue eyes, and commanding presence that was echoed in his sons. A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked around.

Patrick's eyes settled on where his wayward son sat munching an apple with his feet up. Eyes focusing on the combat boots propped on his lacquered conference table, Patrick's smile fell away. "John," he said with a hint of censure in his tone.

Finishing the bite in his mouth insouciantly, John slowly got to his feet and tossed the apple core across the room to land in the trash with a thud. Patrick's expression became stiff. John ignored the stack of napkins to purposefully dry his hands on his jacket, drawing attention to his uniform patches. "Dad." John cocked his chin. "Or should I just be calling you Mr. Sheppard now?"

The two strong-willed men locked gazes. Neither would appreciate her observation that their expressions looked eerily similar. Dave looked like he wasn't even breathing. The skin around John's eyes tightened, making him look a little mean. Patrick's lips flattened and the tips of his ears went red.

Whatever was said next was going to draw metaphorical blood, she just knew it.

"Okay, pause," Meredith commanded, standing up and putting her hands flat on the table. "This trip is about me, not the Sheppard family soap opera. Patrick, you owe me something. Then everyone can talk drama while I'm gone in the bathroom. After that, it's negotiating our contract and me bestowing my genius on your R&D department. You only have me for a limited amount of time, so use it wisely." She pointed her finger and avoided John's eyes.

Tension broken, the two men looked away from each other. Dave blew out a slow breath, sending her a subtle, grateful nod.

Patrick crossed his hands behind his back and turned to Meredith, though he kept sneaking looks at John from the corner of his eyes. John was staring down at the toe of his boot and didn't notice. "Dr. Mckay, thank you for agreeing to this visit. R&D is buzzing with excitement."

The silence stretched.

"Okay," Mckay said impatiently, "and?"

Clearing his throat, Dave gave his father a tight look.

Red came and went on the older man's face. He looked at John but John was now stubbornly staring at the wall. Shoulders rounding, Patrick sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened. "Dr. Mckay, I… apologize for the way I treated you because of my difficult relationship with John, with—" his words stumbled "with my son."

Patrick swallowed and met her eyes. "Your blunt honesty, while sometimes difficult to hear, is nevertheless an admirable trait. I made the mistake of fearing instead of appreciating the strength of your heart. I'm sorry."

Meredith acknowledged his apology with a gracious nod. "I would say my brain is my greatest strength, to be honest, though I do have low cholesterol and healthy heart valves thanks to good genetics more than good diet." Everyone chuckled, though that hadn't been her intention.

She wished she could leave them with the smiles, but that had never been her style. "I'm glad you admire my blunt honesty. Keep that in mind while I'm here because I've got a lot more to say. I accept your apology but warn you not to cross me again. I'm no longer quite so forgiving of slights." She stared fearlessly into the senior Sheppard's face. "Also, I'd advise you to take this as a chance to eat more humble pie and make up with your son. He's the best person I know and that's saying something. It would be a shame if you never got the chance to know the man he is instead of only all the things he isn't."

Deliberately avoiding John's eyes, she turned towards the door. "Take my advice or not, but you have five minutes. Mr. Clean, with me," she clicked her fingers commandingly and left the room.

"I'll guard in the hall," the major said when they reached the restroom.

"I certainly don't want you in the bathroom with me." Meredith curled her lip and gave him a look.

"But let me check the room first," he added with an aggrieved sigh as he stopped her from going in. It was nice to know he took her personal safety so seriously. Even at his most annoying, he still made her feel safe. It would be nice if he liked her too, but she was used to not getting everything she wanted.

Opening the bathroom door, he called out, "Security sweep!" and went in. Seconds later, he came out again. "It's empty and there are no windows. You're good as long as you don't fall in."

Giving him an unamused face, Meredith went inside and locked herself in a stall. She just hoped that John would forgive her for bringing him here. It was for a good cause, even if he didn't know the details. After taking care of business, she slowly washed and dried her hands. Checking her watch, she reapplied her red lipstick just to take up a bit more time.

Once out in the hall again she turned left instead of right. "Major, let's walk a loop around this floor to stretch our legs before going back."

The major padded along at her back like a strangely graceful rhinoceros. She wasn't that small of a woman, but some soldiers seemed to take the idea of being 'big enough' as a personal challenge. It made her very grateful that he was on her side.

Well, mostly on her side. After a few laps, he sighed loudly and ran a hand over his shaved head. "Seriously Mckay, how long are we going to walk around in circles?"

Meredith glanced at her watch. "Just a few more minutes."

He dropped his hand with a gritty laugh. "Is this to give them more time to talk or so you can avoid the colonel's glares?"

Looking back at him, she bit her lip. "Just how far do your guarding duties extend, if I may ask?"

"Physical protection only, Mckay. You're on your own for the rest," he said with dark amusement. "Your sharp tongue is to blame for whatever you get."

"Fine," she said snippily, quickening her pace. "I'll remember not to count on you in the future." _The jerk._ "You jerk," she added.

He lifted a shoulder carelessly. "Ouch, I'll have to use my hanky for that one."

Completing one more circuit, they returned to the conference room. The major knocked on the door in warning and opened it, gesturing her through with a sarcastic, courtly flourish.

_Definitely a jerk._

The Sheppard men fell into uncomfortable silence at their entrance. Although no one was smiling, at least there wasn't any blood.

"We'll have to talk more later," Patrick said.

In response, John just shrugged one shoulder and looked away.

Patrick gave a barely perceptible sigh and gestured everyone to the door. "Dr. Mckay, the contract meeting will take place upstairs. If you'll follow me, please."

"Get my bag, Mr. Clean," she ordered snootily as she swept after the CEO, hoping the order got under the major's skin, even if just a little bit.


	9. Chapter 9

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 9**

* * *

"_Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her."_

_-G. K. CHESTERTON, Orthodoxy_

In the conference room upstairs, Mckay found the real reason she'd agreed to come to Sheppard Energy. It certainly wasn't to make things awkward with John's family. She hated awkwardness. She hoped that part of the day was over and done with.

"Thank you for waiting for us," Dave said. "Let me make introductions since some of us aren't well acquainted. As a reminder, I'm the company VP, Dave Sheppard, and of course, you probably know our CEO, Patrick Sheppard. Everyone, this is the genius engineer Dr. Mckay and her security team."

After a moment of expectant silence where everyone looked past her, Meredith lifted her chin and stepped forward. "I actually have doctorates in both mechanical engineering and physics, but I am considered a genius in both." She folded her arms behind her back. The two people sitting at the table jerked their eyes away from the hallway to look at Mckay with badly concealed surprise.

Clearing his throat, Dave stepped forward. "Which is one of the reasons we're so pleased to have you here with us today, Dr. Mckay. This is my father's admin, Bob Dubois," she gave the man standing by the table—pale-skinned except for a peeling, bright red patch across the bridge of his nose—a regal nod. He hadn't seemed unduly surprised that the blond with red lips was the scientific expert they were hosting today, though admittedly they'd emailed a few times to arrange schedules.

"Our other guests are from MadiDress, the toy company Sheppard Energy acquired last year. First is Mr. Joseph Nichols," Dave gestured to a portly seated man who looked like he'd just bitten into a moldy strawberry at the reminder of his company's subsidiary status. He'd been the one who'd seemed most shocked at her gender too. Nichols had grey-veined white hair that, combined with the deep brown of his skin, uncannily resembled the granite countertops in her ex-husband's flat. It made her think of Troy's rage-inducing phone call from this morning. Nichols's expression and the—admittedly irrational—association with Troy made her dislike him instantly. "Mr. Nichols is in charge of manufacturing. His department came up with the cutting-edge plastic we assume you're interested in. It's why we acquired the company. We've left most of their day to day operations alone otherwise." Dave finished with subtle emphasis, perhaps responding to Nichols's expression.

Giving an anemic nod, Nichols looked down to adjust his notepad and pen. Next to the notepad was a steaming mug of coffee and a bottle of Tylenol. He took a swallow of coffee and got his expression under control, palming the medicine bottle and slipping it into his jacket as Dave continued his introductions.

"Since Dr. Mckay insisted on her presence as well, this is Mrs. Doli Yazzie, their lead toy designer." A seemingly Native American woman bobbed her head in greeting, her turquoise earrings swinging out and then back into hiding behind loose, silver-threaded black hair. She wore a pocket-protector full of colored pencils and a look of barely suppressed boredom at being forced to attend a meeting she expected to be a waste of her time. Both her and Nichols looked unhappy at being abruptly dragged up to Chicago for this meeting.

Patrick Sheppard stepped to the head of the table and sat down. His admin sat next to him and unpacked a briefcase of supplies. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. Bob, bring up the contract. Dr. Mckay, why don't you tell us why you requested this meeting with MadiDress so we can get things settled. The head of R&D is eagerly waiting to meet with you to discuss the cutting-edge research going on in our labs. I'd tell you more, but you have to sign the contract and non-disclosure agreement first." He winked at her.

Taking the seat opposite Patrick, Mckay snapped her fingers at Mr. Clean until he passed over her bag with an irritated look. "Before I change the nature of physics and energy production for your people, I have a few demands," she began, pulling out the papers she'd prepared.

Nichols was looking down his nose at her with one corner of his lips tightened in a sneer. As long as he did what she wanted, she didn't care how he looked or what he thought. Nichols wasn't the man in charge.

"I require MadiDress to make me two dolls, delivery to be set for no later than two weeks from now."

Jaws around the room dropped, including John's and Mr. Clean's.

"Excuse me?" Patrick Sheppard blinked twice but otherwise managed not to react. "You want dolls added to the contract for your scientific consultation?"

"I thought this was about using our plastic?" Mr. Nichols rubbed his forehead. Dropping the hand to smooth down his tie and over the generous bulge of his stomach, he accidentally pushed his coffee to the edge of the table with his elbow. "A personal meeting wasn't really necessary—you want a special present for your daughter, I suppose? We can ship you ladies something from our catalog. Sales is probably who you should've asked to meet with, not manufacturing," he added condescendingly.

Meredith barely suppressed the urge to kick the table so the scalding coffee spilled all over his lap.

Nichols's chair creaked as he leaned back and tapped his finger on the edge of the table. "The Madison Adventure Doll has themes that range from veterinarian to librarian to world traveler, but as a fan, you probably already know that."

Waving away his words, Meredith sent papers sliding down the table. The two dollmakers picked them up as she continued, "The girls already have those, but we're leaving on a dangerous mission and won't be around for a long time. We need something impressive and personalized, especially because we might not make it back."

Meredith ignored the way Patrick's eyes narrowed at that and the way his eyes flicked between her and John. "For the first Maddie doll, I want a physicist and mechanical engineer. I included a list of tools I regularly use in my work. If that's too complicated, you can make her just a physicist or even an astrophysicist. That's also one of my many specialties. Kids love stars and planets, don't they?" She looked to Dave—as a parent—for confirmation. He nodded with bemusement.

Brow furrowing, Patrick tapped one finger on the table and cleared his throat. "Mckay, did you agree to come to my labs just to get at some dolls?"

Meredith frowned over at his interruption. "Last time I saw you, you were mean to me. Later you disowned my best friend—for the second time! I wasn't going to come out of the goodness of my heart."

"But don't you recognize the cutting edge work we do here in the private sector compared to the restrictions of government contracts? Why dolls? Why astrophysics of all things?" Patrick seemed confused and slightly offended by the fact that she hadn't rushed over with excitement at the chance to get a look at Sheppard Energy's R&D. One of Patrick's greatest failings was that he expected everyone to be as obsessed with his company as he was.

He had no idea what she worked with on a daily basis.

John straightened up from the wall and stuck his chin out belligerantly. "Do you have something against astrophysicists?"

Rolling her eyes at John's completely unnecessary attempt to defend her, Meredith gestured him down. "Don't be silly. Patrick loves space. Don't you know that he was originally chosen to command the _Earth Star Voyagers_ program in his late teens? If he hadn't turned them down to follow in his father's footsteps by going to Business school, he'd probably have ended up an astronaut."

Patrick fell back against his chair, looking at her with wide eyes. "How did you even hear about that? Once the program lost funding a few years later, everyone scattered and forgot about it. Everyone."

"I know how to do my research. Genius here, remember?" She twirled her pen smugly.

"I haven't thought of that in… years." Voice trailing off, Patrick looked at the sky outside the window, eyes going unfocused.

"You wanted to be an astronaut?" Dave looked stunned.

"You wanted to fly?" John's voice cracked. He looked at his father as if a stranger.

For a brief moment, Patrick's face looked vulnerable. He opened his mouth and paused, slowly exhaling. Looking away, he inhaled, nostrils flaring. By the time he turned back, his usual mask had reformed and his eyes looked tight with wrinkles pronounced. She had a feeling that whatever came out of his mouth next was going to be something cold that made John react like an angry teenager and completely derailed her meeting.

"Okay, pause again." Meredith snapped her fingers to bring the meeting back to order. "Family time later, dolls now." Only after the words left her mouth did she realize that John might not appreciate the interruption since exploitable chinks in the senior Sheppard's armor were rare.

Avoiding John's eyes, Meredith turned to the toy designer. "Well, can you do it, Dolly?"

Rubbing her lips as she read the paper, the woman nodded her head. "It's Doli and yes, it's doable as long as Mr. Nichols agrees to the changes in the manufacturing schedule. We'll probably narrow the theme down to astrophysics as suggested, but if that sells well, the company might be able to add an engineer down the line." She looked to her colleague for approval.

Meredith hadn't intended the dolls to be more than a one-off, but she really liked the idea of having little girls everywhere playing with a doll inspired by herself so she let the misunderstanding stand.

"Manufacturing has had a lot of disruptions lately with all of the changes demanded by the new administration, but we can probably handle one more for Mrs. Mckay and her little girls." Lips twisting, he made a note on his paper.

"It's _Dr. _Mckay, not Mrs.," Meredith corrected, "and I have several degrees to prove it. Try to keep up, Mickle."

"It's Nichols," he said huffily.

Ignoring the correction, Meredith pulled another stack of papers from her bag and slid them down the table. "Now, for the second Madison doll, I want a Master Sergeant in the Marines. I included a picture of the woman I want you to model the doll after, including the exact insignia and accessories. The beret and hairstyle should also stay the same. Those details are non-negotiable."

Meredith was too busy with her rapid-fire demands to care that Mickle—Nichols—manufacturing guy had gone completely still in his chair and that the expression on his until-now-mobile face had gone completely flat. He had to do what Patrick said anyway, so his opinion didn't really matter.

Besides, Meredith was much more interested in how Doli had pulled out several colored pencils and begun sketching in the paper margins with gusto. "Does her uniform patch have to say Kindall on it? I'd prefer to use just the name Madison if possible to stay consistent to the brand."

Mr. Clean shot Mckay a sharp look and shifted position to get a better look at the paper, reminding her he was actually in the room and not just another decorative tree.

"That's fine since both girls are named Madison. I'll need one of each before—no, wait." Snapping her fingers, Meredith turned to Patrick's assistant. "Make that _two _of each Madison doll on my desk in Colorado in two weeks or less. Put that in the contract and I'm ready to sign it and get to work in your R&D."

Shaking his head, Patrick opened his hand in a throwaway gesture and huffed a quiet laugh. "Go ahead, Bob. Mckay could ask for a lot more than a couple of dolls. As she says, she is a genius and her time and attention are valuable. I appreciate everything she brings to the table." He shot his son a quick look through his lashes. John missed it, being too busy looking at Doli sketching.

Feeling devilish now that she'd gotten her way, Meredith propped her chin in her hands. "More huh? Does Dave still have that Wonder Woman-themed Lamborghini John gave him?"

"No way, Vicki would kill me." Dave sat forward in his chair. "She loves that car. What about the General Lee? We rarely drive that."

"I don't like the _Dukes of Hazzard_." Mckay wrinkled her nose. "Nevermind, I'll stick to the four Maddie dolls, the new shirt, and the $250K."

Head whipping up, Nichols stared at her in shock for a moment and then glared.

John choked and started coughing. "They're paying you how much?"

Nichols transferred his glare to John as if offended that the anonymous military guard had dared to talk again.

"You do get that I'm a genius, right?" Meredith sent John a haughty look. "In their latest contract, Key Energy's CEO offered me $400,000 for just four hours of work, but I'd rather roast Matt Hair over a flaming pit than do him a favor. Not only is he a detestable human being, but he also dumps industrial waste in nature preserves after bribing the inspectors and thinks _The Lord of the Rings _is about a heist at the Tower of London."

"I hate Matt Hair too," Patrick admitted, tilting his head with a conspiratorial smile. "I'd come to the BBQ."

Surprised, she laughed. "I wouldn't actually eat him, but I would bring marshmallows. I bet I could get his ex-wives and former coworkers to bring the chocolate and graham crackers. If we're really lucky he's offended an Australian who'll bring hot chocolate and Tim-Tams. Eating a Tim-Tam slam is practically a religious experience."

Turning to his son, Patrick arched one brow. "I can double her salary if it will make you feel better, John. A woman with both brains and beauty is always worth it."

Looking back at Meredith, Patrick let open appreciation fill his face. Meredith almost blushed. The Sheppard family really was unfairly attractive.

John made a constipated face. It made her want to poke at him even more.

"Why thank you, Patrick. You say the sweetest things." Meredith curved her lips and fluttered her lashes, barely choking back a laugh as John twitched hard and banged his elbow against the wall. Scowling, he looked away and rubbed his arm.

Patrick looked like he wanted to laugh too. "If that's everything, we can wrap up and move on to R&D. I'm sure MadiDress won't have a problem adjusting their manufacturing schedule to meet your demands and add the two dolls to their lineup."

"Joseph, no!" Doli hissed, snatching at Nichols as he heaved his bulk to his feet, sending his chair crashing back onto the floor.

"I—I can't. I'm sorry, but I just can't anymore. As the new owners, Sheppard Energy has to respect that MadiDress stands for things girls should aspire to. If that changes, we'll go bankrupt. Jobs will be lost. Haven't you changed us enough already?" Nichols's face had gone purple.

Doli hunched down in her seat and put a hand over her face.

Picking up the picture of Master Sergeant Michelle Kindall off the table, Nichols crumpled it in his fist. "I know they do things differently over here in the big city, but we can't have MadiDress associated with the military! Let boys play with their toy soldiers and leave the girls alone. We were bought out for our plastics. You can't think to turn around now and use our brand to brainwash little girls into becoming killers like those two thugs this supposed expert brought with her." He gestured with disgust at John and the major in their military uniforms. "You'll bankrupt our company in the process. We'll lose everything."

Nichols dropped the picture of the Master Sergeant onto the floor like trash. "Mr. Sheppard, think of the bottom line. Think about how MadiDress is a family company. I thought Sheppard Energy was a family company too."

Hands white-knuckled on her armrests, Meredith seethed.

Before she could reply, John padded forward. "He's got a point. It is family policy to put the good of the company over the good of the country, to hate the military in pursuit of the almighty dollar." Bitterness cut deep grooves around John's mouth as he sent a challenging look at his father. "Isn't that right, Mr. Sheppard?"

Flinching, Patrick turned to John, the controlled businessman disappearing as he spoke directly to his estranged son. "That's not true, John. It's not. I never hated you or the military, I just feared what that life would do to my son."

"Exactly," Nichols said stridently, calling attention back to his argument as he rubbed an arm across his face to wipe away the sweat. "Dave is better off working for your company. He's a productive member of society while the military turns other people's sons and daughters into mindless killers. No one wants a killer in their family."

Nichols didn't seem to be aware that the son they were talking about was John.

John jerked his gaze out the window, his expression going flat. You could tell he was avoiding looking at his father, as if afraid of seeing agreement and condemnation in his father's eyes, bracing himself to be hurt. Again.

In contrast, Nichols was focused completely on Patrick Sheppard, taking a step forward to urge his case. "Parents don't want their little girls playing with dolls like that. We'd lose money and trust. You have to see that, Mr. Sheppard. It's bad for our bottom line and for families. The Madisons of the world deserve better."

Slamming her hands on the table, Meredith lunged to her feet, unable to stay quiet and listen to him for even one more second. Nichols's coffee cup fell off the edge of the table and splattered across the carpet. "The only mindless person in here is you, fat man, bleating your ignorant and greedy opinions!"

Temper lost, Meredith's professionalism went out the window as she advanced around the table. "Sure, I'd be the first to tell you that the military isn't perfect, that's it's full of blowhards and idiots, but it's also vitally important and often the only thing standing between you and the abyss of enslavement and death. You're only alive today because of people like Master Sergeant Kindall—" Meredith gestured sharply at the crumpled picture on the floor that had thankfully missed getting splashed by coffee "—who gave up her life for the rest of us. She wasn't full of hate, you hypocrite, she was full of love—love for her family, this planet, and her duty. She joined the Marines with full knowledge of the risks and the will to chase after the rewards of service, something a greedy worm like you probably knows nothing about. A year after her death, people still tear up at the mention of her name and vie to tell tales of her exploits. She inspired her brother to have compassion on the hysterical and befriend the irritating, to spend his life trying to live up to his big sister's example. Master Sergeant Kindall was brave and thoughtful. She was more interested in what was right than in what would earn her the most money. If you asked Kindall's daughter—_Madison_—she'd tell you that her mother died a hero. Not a day goes by that Maddie doesn't wish to have her back. Don't you dare insult her memory, you judgmental, greedy worm. The other Madisons of the world _deserve _a hero like that. My niece—_Madison_—deserves a hero like that. We all do."

By the end of Meredith's rant, her hands were shaking and she'd backed Nichols up into a corner. Slamming a hand against the wall, she made him flinch, despite him having almost foot on her in height and almost two hundred pounds in weight. Face sweating profusely, he cowered back against the wall.

Meredith could probably count on one hand the number of people she actually cared about in this world beyond the abstract, but Sergeant James Kindall had become one of them when he'd saved her life and then decided to become her friend instead of running away at the first opportunity. The one time she'd asked why he'd told her that it was what his sister would expect of him and that she'd be disappointed if he didn't.

Later they'd found common ground in their mutual love of questionable sci-fi TV shows, red Jello cups, and nieces named Madison. Thanks to Kindall's help with presents, Mckay's niece actually seemed excited to hear from the aunt who loved her but felt lost in how to show it. Meredith vaguely knew that Kindall was one of her few important people, but she hadn't realized how strongly she'd come to feel about his sister too or how angry it would make her feel to hear that sister insulted.

A familiar hand reached out to touch her wrist, carefully tugging her back. "That's enough, Rome." John squeezed gently and rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. Turning her back on Nichols dismissively, she blew out a breath and allowed John to take her back to her seat. John pulled out her chair, waited for her to sit down, and then pushed her back in.

Taking a step away, he bent over and carefully picked up the wrinkled picture of the master sergeant off the floor. The paper crinkled audibly in the silent room. Smoothing it out against his thigh, John placed the photo respectfully back on the table and stepped back to station himself at Meredith's back in a posture of parade rest.

Mr. Clean silently handed Meredith a bottle of water, looking at her as if she'd just sprouted horns. Unwilling to deal with his mocking, she turned her eyes to the table and forced herself to calm down and stop shaking. Opening the bottle, she took several gulps.

Putting down the bottle with once more steady hands, she turned her gaze to Patrick Sheppard and tightened her jaw. "You've heard my demands, Sheppard. I will walk if you don't get me the Master Sergeant Maddie Doll. I am deadly serious about this."

Meeting her gaze unflinchingly, Patrick inclined his head. "Although I sympathize with Mr. Nichols opinions, I do not agree with them. After all, my son John is an Air Force Colonel." His eyes moved to John in his uniform, making Nichols jerk in sudden realization and Doli gasp. "Sheppard Energy and its subsidiaries are all family companies and from now on that family will support the military."

Head shooting up, John looked at his father with wide eyes.

Patrick looked back at John steadily for several beats of silence before turning his gaze back to Nichols. "Mr. Nichols, at this time I'm going to ask you to leave the meeting and go calm down. You are in charge of manufacturing, not MadiDress company policy. If you need to take a leave of absence, I'll tell your boss to approve it. If you don't like the new direction that's come with Sheppard Energy's ownership, you are, of course, free to find a new company to work for."

Face ashen and shirt patchy with sweat, Nichols pulled out his pill bottle and shook three pills into his shaking palm. He dry-swallowed them. "Right," he said hollowly. Shoulders rounded, not meeting anyone's eyes, he picked up his bag and left the room.

Patrick turned his gaze on the remaining staffer. "Mrs. Yazzie, are you comfortably designing both of these dolls and making sure they get shipped within two weeks to Dr. Mckay?"

"Yes, sir." She reached out and gathered up the wrinkled picture, carefully tucking it into her stack of papers. "My uncle's in the Army and my husband's grandfather was a Navajo code-talker during WWII. I have no problem with the military or with making the two types of dolls, especially with all of the supplemental material provided by Dr. Mckay."

"I'll have a record of the meeting sent to your CEO and make sure you're CC'd on it. If you run into any troubles, contact my assistant, Bob Dubois, or our VP, Dave Sheppard," Patrick gestured and both men pulled out business cards to pass over to Doli.

"Thank you, I will." Doli scooped up her colored pencils and put them back in her shirt pocket. "Is it alright if I go and get started on this? Or do you need me for something else?"

Everyone turned to look at Meredith.

"No, that's everything." Meredith waved her hand, just as eager as the rest of them for the meeting to end. "Print out the contract with all my stipulations and I'll sign it. Then we can go downstairs and start working."

Doli quickly disappeared out the door as Patrick's assistant typed something on his laptop. He offered the screen to Patrick, who made a correction. The printer in the corner hummed. Patrick signed both copies and then handed them to his admin.

Bob brought the contracts over to Mckay with a pen and waited behind her shoulder while she read. He smelled like aloe, probably for the burn on his nose. The contract included both Madison dolls and one screwdriver-themed dress shirt. Her eyebrows rose when she saw that they'd doubled her salary, which had already been generous. She thought Patrick had been joking about that part, but she wasn't going to argue that she was worth less money. Satisfied, Mckay signed on the line, tucked her copy away, and stood to leave.

"Wait, Meredith," Dave said awkwardly as he stopped her advance, "I don't know where you're going that has you worried about future presents, but as a father myself, I'd like to do something for your two little Maddies. If you give me their addresses and birthdays, I can ship both of them presents while you're gone. I'm also happy to make them product testers for each new Madison Adventure Doll Set that comes out."

Meredith was surprised by his offer. "Thank you, Dave, I'd appreciate that." Flipping open her phone, she quickly brought up the information and sent it to his email.

"Now, shall we go down to the labs?" Patrick held open the door. "I heard that several of my scientists got up early just to reread all of your published papers in preparation for the meeting. Everyone is eagerly awaiting you and your promises of changing the nature of physics."

Gathering her blond hair in one hand, Meredith pulled out a green pen and secured it up out of her way in a messy bun. She had what she wanted. Appearance didn't matter anymore. "Sounds good to me. Lead the way."

* * *

AN: Once upon a time in 1988, little Indygodusk watched a Disney Sunday Movie TV special called, "_Earth Star Voyagers_." Luckily her family recorded it on VHS. She absolutely adored this two-part sci-fi special and watched it over and over again. Then her wicked older brother recorded over the middle with some Charlie Brown. She managed to find and buy a bootleg DVD transferred from someone else's VHS in the early 2000s. One of the main characters was Capt. Jonathan Hays, played by the young and very hot Brian McNamara. It was hugely exciting to see him again as General Holden, husband of Claudia-Joy on the Lifetime series _Army Wives_. I cast him as Patrick Sheppard in this because as the author… I can.


	10. Chapter 10

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 10**

* * *

"_I've seen Rome, and I shall go to bed a wiser man than I last rose-yesterday morning." _

_-HENRY JAMES, letter to William James, October 30, 1869_

That evening at half-past nine, Meredith finally tossed down her Expo marker and stretched with a pained groan. Her action was mirrored in the dark window, reminding her that it had been light outside the last time she'd come up for air and a bottle of Coke Zero. Her stomach gurgled in protest and she felt faintly nauseous. Her body wasn't happy with her. "Okay, that's it, I'm done. Time for me to leave for my hotel."

Despite the workday officially ending hours ago, not a single person had left R&D during her visit. Teams of engineers crowded around computers and whiteboards, playing with the new designs and materials she'd suggested and testing how they fit into the existing infrastructure.

"But—but we still need to talk about how the new design will alter the thermal cycling and pressure ratios, and how it will affect the wastewater composition, not to mention that you obviously have more ideas about how your equations simplify alternating current in the new transformers! Can't you stay just a little longer to explain the equations you just wrote on the board?" begged Dr. Kaiser, Meredith's shadow for the last several hours.

Mckay liked the flattery but could use a few more feet of distance. Kaiser's breath still smelled like the garlic knot he'd eaten hours ago. She'd been too busy discussing energy cycling to grab any food for herself. "I could stay for years and still not teach you everything I know. Figure out what I already gave you. You have some good people here, but they need time to digest my ideas. If you get stuck and I'm still on planet—I mean, in the States and not too busy, have Patrick Sheppard invite me back. Don't email me anything proprietary! I work for the government and my emails aren't secure. Right now, I need to go eat before my blood sugar gets any lower." Pulling out the pen from her hair, Mckay scrubbed at her head. She hated the way her scalp tingled when she first released her hair from bondage.

"We understand, Dr. Mckay," the floor manager said with a smile, patting the disappointed Dr. Kaiser on the back and subtly pulling him back so Mckay had a clear path to the door. "On behalf of Sheppard Energy, thank you for consulting with our R&D department. You've revolutionized our understanding of energy cycling and capacitance."

"This changes everything," Dr. Kaiser broadly gestured to the whiteboard covered in equations and the tables full of scribbled on schematics, "everything."

Smiling back at them with satisfaction, Mckay put a hand on her hip. "Just remember that we discussed the benefits of rolling out the first of your next-gen generators in Colorado and the Intermountain West, followed by the West Coast, before moving through the rest of the country. Also, don't skimp on the safety checks! This is a lot more power than your people are used to, so an accident will have much higher and deadlier consequences."

Before the researchers could continue their litany of praise, something she never really got tired of hearing, her stomach gurgled loudly.

"Dr. Mckay's right. It's time to go," John interjected, standing up from where he'd been talking quietly to his brother on a corner couch. Patrick had also come and gone several times during the hours of her scientific frenzy. It looked like they'd decided to forgive each other and start talking again. She didn't want to know the messy details, she just wanted John to be happy.

"We can order you something to eat at the hotel as soon as you start walking to the limo outside. It's been waiting out there for over two hours," John said pointedly when she drifted sideways, distracted by the equation being written on a whiteboard by a stocky female with short black hair.

Coming over, Dave gave her a quick hug. "It was nice seeing you again, Meredith. Thanks for all the excitement." She just shrugged, which made him grin.

At her continued presence, Dr. Kaiser drifted over purposefully. Dave sent her a wink and intercepted the man. "Should I order catering before I take off?" At his enthusiastic nod, Dave cupped his hands and asked the room, "How many people are staying and need more food?"

All but two hands shot up into the air.

"I've got to go pick up my kids from my mother's house," a ginger-haired woman apologized, glancing at the clock.

The mustachioed man next to her gave a guilty grimace. "I've got to feed my cat. I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning, though," he assured his team.

Dave waved as they exited the lab's security doors.

It took a few minutes to make their way down the elevator and through the hallways to the exit. As Meredith and her two military escorts walked over to the limousine waiting at the curb, exhaustion hit her all at once. She wasn't as young as she used to be. Maybe she should've eaten the garlic knots after all. The chill night breeze made the hair on her arms stand on end. She shivered.

"I've got your jacket if you're cold," John said quietly.

"Thanks," she said gratefully. Handing her bag over to the major, she took the jacket from John and slid her arms into the sleeves.

Meredith's eyes caught on the front gate. It hung open along with the door to the security booth. The security guard was nowhere to be seen.

"Down!" Hands grabbed Mckay and threw her to the ground, painfully banging her elbows and knees. The prongs of a stun gun thudded into the pavement inches from her nose. As she stared at them disbelievingly, they sparked menacingly. _Those things could cause heart attacks!_ _And accidental deaths! _

Pushing herself up in a panic, she saw chaos. Sheppard Energy's security guards were running out of the building as John and Mr. Clean fought hand to hand with men dressed head to toe in black. Guns fired. People shouted. A man screamed and then abruptly went silent.

Tires squealed as a black SUV with tinted windows and no plates zoomed through the open gate and up onto the sidewalk. It skidded to a stop in front of Mckay. The doors burst open and two men jumped out, heading straight for her prone body.

"John!" Meredith screamed, scuttling backward until she hit the limo. She reached up and desperately tugged on the handle, but the door wouldn't open and the men were getting closer. Eeling out of her jacket as fast as possible, Meredith scrambled underneath the limo. Skin tore and gravel cut into her forearms, but all she cared about was staying out of those men's hands. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

She really didn't want to be kidnapped again. The third time was not the charm. She hated being kidnapped.

Hands snatched at her leg. Mckay kicked frantically. The hands flinched back and someone cursed.

Desperately she wiggled farther beneath the car, trying to make herself small. Bullets strafed the pavement nearby. A tire popped, dropping the limo lower to the ground.

A large hand clamped onto her leg, trying to wrench her out. Screaming, Meredith buried her hands into the undercarriage of the limo and did her best to hang on. The fingers dug painfully into her leg and pulled, too strong to resist forever. "No!" she cried, terrified as her fingers slipped one by one off the oily metal overhead. "No!"

Suddenly she heard the loud retort of a nearby gunshot. The fingers around her arm spasmed and went limp. Hyperventilating, she jerked her leg free and curled as small as possible. Another gunshot sounded close by, followed by more shouting. Someone pulled the limp arm away from the limo.

Legs dressed in military fatigues crouched down next to the limo. The person dropped flat to the ground and John's face in fearsome military mode appeared in the gap. "Rome, are you hurt?" he demanded, eyes darting desperately over her body.

Letting out a small sob, she bit her lip. She forced herself to take a quivering breath before answering. "They tried to kidnap me. Again. I skinned my elbows and my cheek. My hair is dirty and I'm covered in bruises and grease. Also, I'm stuck under this limousine."

Releasing a shaky sigh at her complaints, John let his chin drop to his folded arms. "Are you sure? Have you tried wiggling back out?"

"No, I don't want to hurt myself more," Meredith whined, dropping her cheek flat onto the gritty ground with self-pity. "Can't some of the security guards lift the car off me or something? Mr. Clean's got to be that strong."

"That limo probably weighs 6,000 pounds," John said incredulously. "Just scoot yourself out."

A piece of gravel dug uncomfortably into her jaw. "That's not as much as a hippopotamus," Meredith argued stubbornly, refusing to move.

"So? I'm not going to ask anyone to pick up a hippo either. You're a grown woman, not a baby. So hurry up and wiggle your butt out of there, Mckay," Sheppard ordered impatiently.

Irritated, Meredith stopped whining and tried to get herself out, which was probably his intention, the manipulative bastard. She wiggled about ten inches before her chest became squeezed so tightly between the ground and car that it felt difficult to breathe. "My boobs are too big," she gasped, "and that's not something I usually complain about, which tells you something."

Meredith tried to move back but found herself wedged tight. "I'm stuck and can't breathe," she wheezed, fear making her hands bang against the ground uselessly. "John!"

"Alright, hold on. Slow breaths, don't hyperventilate. I'm going to get you out of there, Rome. I promise," John's face disappearing from view as he sat up. Muffled voices conferred. All she could see were his legs. Then John's military jacket dropped to the ground.

Seconds later he reappeared in his black t-shirt. John lay down on his stomach and slid his arm under the car until he had her wrist encircled in one broad hand. At his touch, she felt her panic recede slightly. "Major McLean and a few of the men are going to try and lift the front of the car a bit so you can breathe better until someone finds a carjack. As soon as you're loose enough, I'll help pull you out. Ready?"

"My genius...brain cells...are being deprived of...oxygen...and dying. Of course...I'm ready," she complained between rapid breaths. Sirens approached in the distance.

Turning his head, John called out, "Whenever you're ready, McLean."

"One, two, three, lift!" grunted the major's distinctive raspy voice. Metal strained and groaned. The pressure on her chest eased.

"Now," she wheezed, trying to wiggle herself free.

Immediately John pulled. Other hands reached down and helped, finally yanking her all the way out. They lifted her over the curb and let her sprawl out on the sidewalk.

John crouched down by her side, brow furrowed. He had a dark red scrape across the tip of his pointy ear but otherwise looked unharmed. "Is anything broken?" he asked.

"Everything's broken," Meredith groaned, forcing herself to sit up. Lying on pavement hurt. Everything hurt. "Did you at least catch the bastards that did this to me?"

"Yeah, we got them," John growled, glaring over at the group of black-clad men tied up against the wall of the building. He dropped an unconscious kiss on her forehead.

Eyes going wide, Meredith caught her breath.

John looked down at her. His eyes darkened and he swallowed. Meredith bit her lip. John's hand came up and cupped the back of her neck. Green eyes searched her face. His warm thumb rubbed a line of fire back and forth across her cold cheek. "I'm just glad you're okay," he whispered lowly. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Breathless now for a reason that had nothing to do with a limo the size of a hippo sitting on her chest, she decided to take a chance. "In the movies, this would be where you kiss me."

John's caressing finger stopped. She couldn't tell if he was shocked, appalled, or interested. He didn't seem to be breathing.

"I like movies," Meredith prompted nervously, wetting her lips. "However, if you're going to be weird about this, I'd like to blame what I just said on low blood sugar and the lack of oxygen in my brain after having a limo smashing my chest. Brain cells have died. It's a tragedy of galactic proportions."

Lips tilting upward, John leaned forward and pressed his amusement ever so gently against her mouth. Their lips caressed softly, with hints of adoration, barely restrained passion, and a promise of later. Kissing John felt like coming home, but to a home depicted only in Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel instead of the trainwreck of her childhood.

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly. Annoyed, she pressed harder into the kiss. John gave her as good as he got and then pulled back slowly. Eyes meeting, they shared a private smile.

Meredith brushed the hair out of her face and touched his arm. "Our first kiss went better than I imagined, which is saying a lot considering I'm covered in bloody wounds and engine grease right now."

"Me too," John said with a giddy little grin.

"Sir, the police and paramedics are here," Major Clean announced, not looking directly at either of them.

Leaning back, John sighed and became serious. "Duty calls. We'll figure the rest of it out later, alright?" He touched her jaw and then stood up.

"Rome wasn't built in a day and neither were we." She rolled gingerly to her feet. "There's no rush... not to say I'm going to be patient about getting to the good parts later, because I won't."

John's teeth flashed. "I'll definitely look forward to later."

"John! Meredith!" Dave cried as he ran out of the building and past an exasperated security guard.

Patrick Sheppard followed a few seconds later, eyes wild as he searched for and finally found his son unharmed in the crowd.

Giving Meredith a nod of promise, John turned back into a military man and began snapping out orders at the growing crowd. Sending the paramedics her way, he accepted a rough hug from his brother and father before taking an open cell phone from Major Clean to update the SGC.

After passing off the phone, Mr. Clean took up station next to Meredith to make sure nothing else happened to her. He even retrieved her bag and jacket. He may be a jerk, but he was also a comforting mountain of a man who'd made good on his word to keep her safe. The paramedics eyed him nervously and made sure to treat her with extra care, which was a win for her since she usually hated their cold, rough hands.

Besides, if she couldn't have John, she'd take the comfort of prescription strength painkillers. The ambulance ride would give her time to think about this new development. Figuring out the details of "later" would require a detailed bullet-point list. And if the notoriously bad patient Meredith Mckay smiled dreamily while the paramedics patched up her scrapes? Well, that was nobody's business but hers.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: **Possible Trigger WARNING**. See ending AN for details.

* * *

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 11**

* * *

"_Rome stuffs its ears when it hears thee; the world reviles thee. I can blush for thee no longer, and I have no wish to do so. The howls of Cerberus, though resembling thy music, will be less offensive to me, for I have never been the friend of Cerberus, and I need not be ashamed of his howling."  
_-HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, Letter of Petronius to Nero

"I said no. I'm not interested. Now go away." Turning away from Captain Seward to grab her jello cup, Mckay huffed with annoyance at seeing only green and orange left. Moving on, she grabbed a bowl of grapes instead.

"Fine," Seward said tightly, still at her back for some reason, "I'll see you later when you're in a more reasonable mood." Finally, he left.

"Didn't you break up with him?" Miko asked sotto voce, picking up her own bowl of grapes and some strange rice, egg, and chicken concoction that her buddy in the kitchen had made special for her.

"Of course I did," Meredith huffed impatiently.

Frustratingly, none of the food looked good today. Turning to Miko, she asked, "Do you think your buddy would take my special order too?"

"Are you Japanese?" Miko asked serenely.

"Of course not. What a stupid question." Meredith flicked her blond hair.

"Then no." Giving her an arch smile, Miko took a bite of her velvety-looking egg dish and left to sit down.

Grumbling under her breath, Meredith grabbed the regular rice casserole and joined her. "I thought you were supposed to be nice and timid. What is that stuff called anyway?"

"I am nice, you don't respect timid people, and I'm not giving you any," Miko answered with a half-smile. "It is called _oyako donburi_ or mother-child rice bowl."

"That's slightly disturbing." Staring at the chicken and eggs, Meredith took a big bite of her food and chewed. It tasted bland.

"Mine tastes very good," Miko sing-songed, licking a bit of rice off her spoon.

Sighing, Mckay unenthusiastically ate a grape. "It looks good."

Suddenly, a hand plopped down an orange jello cup onto the table. "Here, my buddy didn't want his." Seward leaned into Meredith's personal space to put his lips by her ear in an unpleasantly moist blast of air. "I'll see you tonight."

"No, that's…" Mckay trailed off with irritation as he disappeared back into the crowd.

Giving her a sideways look, Miko dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "I don't think he knows you broke up with him. That or he's taking Colonel Sheppard's absence on maneuvers as a chance to win you back."

"Hah! I've wanted Sheppard for years. No way I'm giving him up now, especially since we only got two days together before he disappeared. Have you seen John? Choosing Seward would be like sledding down a hill on a trash bag instead of a steel runner sled." Grabbing the orange jello Seward had left, she stood up and lobbed it into the trash can. "I just hope Seward wakes up and leaves me alone. Next time, I'm going to stop being nice and just scream out that he's a boring moron and terrible kisser."

Reaching out, Miko touched the back of Meredith's hand, meeting her eyes seriously. "Be careful. You know military men can react badly to being embarrassed. If he pushes you to it, make sure you're in public."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine," Meredith waved away the warning. She wasn't worried about Seward overreacting. It wasn't like he was a heavy combat asset. For heaven's sake, the man was an environmental engineer who loved watching _Friends _and _ER_. She was more concerned that he'd start crying and try to make her feel like a big meanie.

"If you say so." Taking another bite of her mother-child rice, Miko asked, "Do you have any weekend plans? After I finish coding tomorrow, I'm going to a Friday night exhibit on flower arranging. You said I could leave early, remember?"

"Yes yes," Meredith wrinkled her nose. "I suppose I should go back to my condo off base and see if my cat still recognizes me. She lives with my neighbor most of the year, but I don't want her thinking that I'm dead or anything."

"Perhaps you should bring her a bribe," Miko suggested, a small smile playing across her lips as she stirred her food.

"That's a good idea," Meredith snapped her fingers, pulling out her phone to write herself a note.

Knocking on General O'Neill's door later that day, Meredith waited only a few seconds before knocking again. O'Neill's admin finally opened the door.

"Dr. Mckay's here for your appointment, sir," Captain Truesdale announced over her shoulder.

"Send her in," O'Neill called.

Truesdale opened the door wide to let Mckay in and then stepped out, closing it behind her.

Sitting on the edge of the chair in front of the desk, Meredith crossed her arms defensively and bounced her knee. "What's this about, General?"

"We figured out who tried to kidnap you," O'Neill said plainly, leaning forward in his chair.

"Oh," Mckay slouched back into her seat. "Well, that's good." Swallowing, she picked at a loose thread on her shirt and asked, "So no news from the IOA yet?"

"Any day now," O'Neill said sympathetically. "We need the expedition to leave for Atlantis inside of three months, preferably two, so they can't put it off much longer."

"Of course. I'm sure I'm worrying over nothing. After all, who wouldn't pick me?" Giving him a firm nod, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "So let's talk my kidnapping. Was it Troy like I suspected? I told the investigators that I talked to my ex-husband earlier that day and made the mistake of telling him I'd be in Chicago. He probably wanted to get me out of the way before the IOA chose me to lead Atlantis."

O'Neill shook his head. "You know I don't like Forrester either, but we couldn't find any evidence linking him to it. Turns out the kidnapping was paid for by the CEO of a utilities conglomerate called Key Energy."

Clearing her throat, Meredith blinked at him. "I'm sorry, do you mean that _Matt Hair_ tried to kidnap me?"

At O'Neill's nod, her teeth clenched in anger. "I knew I hated that supercilious, condescending _pig_. Is he in custody or can I hire some people to dispose of him messily?"

"Too late for that." O'Neill gave her a warning look. "They picked him up last night. Turns out he made some bad investments, was on the verge of bankruptcy, and had started hemorrhaging senior scientists and upper managers. He thought that having you as his Magic 8 Ball would give him all the answers and turn his luck around. I sent a few of my scarier marines along with the Feds and he confessed to all of it," O'Neill said with a pleased little smirk.

Then he pointed a finger and frowned with annoyance, "You can let Colonel Sheppard know when he gets back from training to stop bugging me about it. He's getting annoying. Thankfully he'll be Sumner's problem soon."

"Sure." Mckay stood up to go. "Anything else?"

Cocking his head to the side, O'Neill pursed his lips. "Out of curiosity, who did you lean on to get Sheppard that promotion?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Meredith gave him a bland expression.

"Oh, come on, Mckay. I put him in for a transfer and a commendation, but that wouldn't have wiped away the black mark on his record. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve the rank after reading his uncensored record, but there's no way that promotion to Colonel came automatically with a record like his. Nor does the IOA have the mandate to push it through themselves. Plus, it's abundantly clear that the man doesn't care enough to play the game for himself." O'Neill tapped his desk impatiently. "I know first-hand that you're willing to trade-in favors for him."

Meredith pursed her lips. "As you say, he does deserve it. If he's too lazy and the brass too busy, then someone has to make sure things get done right. Now, I have experiments to get back to. If you'll excuse me?"

"Ok fine," huffing he waved her out, "don't tell me, but information's a two-way street. Just remember that I might be too busy to pass on my gossip to you next time."

"Sure," she said, pausing in the doorway, "and if that happens, I'll just have to ask Daniel instead. Catch you later, Jack." Smirking at his mock-glare, she turned and left.

Returning to her lab, Meredith pulled up the files for dialing a Stargate. She'd been beating her head against the Ancient hardware and programming, trying to find a way to make a dialing device that was small and portable instead of the big columns out in the open that teams currently had to work with. So far, she'd had no luck.

On the other hand, she'd figured out a sneaky way to disable a gate dialing computer with a few minutes delay built-in. The only problem was that it might not be reversible. It could be worth using against an enemy or as a defensive tool, but she needed to refine it more before passing the idea over to Dr. Samantha Carter for criticism and field testing.

Mckay had a bit of a girl-crush on Carter's beauty and brains, whereas Carter merely tolerated Mckay. At least Carter seemed to respect her work. The other woman had never really gotten over how Mckay had almost let her teammate, Teal'c, be killed when he got stuck in the Stargate.

Nevermind the fact that politics had been at play and Meredith's information had been skewed from the get-go, or that if Carter's desperate plan hadn't worked, many more people would've died as a consequence. Mckay had apologized, but only Teal'c seemed to have let it go.

Grimacing, she made herself focus on the Ancient symbols on her screen instead of past failings.

"Goodnight, Mckay," she vaguely heard. When she didn't bother turning away from her computer monitor to respond, the voice spoke again. "If I come in tomorrow morning to find you asleep at your keyboard again, I will draw on your face in sharpie."

Ripping herself free of the ancient coding, she zeroed in on the only person left in the room and scowled. "You touch my face and the next time the mess makes goulash, I'll lace your bowl with laxatives.''

Dr. Zalenka quirked an eyebrow at her challengingly. "You touch my goulash and I'll make sure you never get a red jello cup again. If I recruit all of the science department and say it is for you, is certain I'll have plenty of volunteers to help."

Making a face, she conceded. "Fine. See you tomorrow, Zalenka."

Surprise and pleasure lit his face. "You remembered my name." He cleared his throat and tried to scowl. "It's about time."

Not meeting his eyes, she returned to her computer screen, fighting to keep her lips from turning up. "Well, it's hard not to notice that some of the best work around here has your name on it. I just want to follow this one line of thought and then I promise I'll stop, so get lost."

"Goodnight, Mckay. I will see you tomorrow." Picking up his bag, Zalenka left, allowing the lab door to swing closed and the electronic locks to engage.

Despite her promise, several more hours passed. Opening her bottom drawer to pull out a recent computer science journal with a potentially relevant article on code breaking, she instead found a post-it note stuck to a plastic sack.

_Don't forget to take care of yourself. Also, food and sleep aren't optional! _

_-John_

Inside the bag, Meredith found trail mix, granola bars, and three water bottles. Smiling softly, she opened up the water and took a drink.

John had been gone for over a week on maneuvers with Colonel Sumner and the military contingent assigned to Atlantis. They were due back any time now, so she wanted to get as much of this theoretical work done as possible before she found herself distracted. She certainly enjoyed being distracted with John, but he made the idea of stopping when your body felt tired and hungry seem so reasonable. Usually, she ignored her body as much as possible in favor of her mind. Then again, there was something to be said for working smarter instead of harder. Opening a granola bar, she took a bite and promised herself to leave before ten.

"I thought I might find you still here."

Blinking the strain from her eyes, she looked up to see Captain Seward walking into her lab, the door swinging shut at his back. "What do you want?" she asked in surprise. The clock on the wall read 21:06. "Just because your keycard gives you access to the civilian science labs doesn't mean you're supposed to be in here."

Seward frowned at her. "I came to see my girlfriend. You've been avoiding me and I want to know why."

Leaning back in her seat, Meredith stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not your girlfriend, Seward. We went out a handful of times. Literally. That means _five _in case you can't count, and two of those ended early. It was enough for me to decide that we aren't compatible."

"What's that even supposed to mean? Are you mad because I slipped up and ordered for you at dinner a few times? It was a mistake, not a reason to end a relationship or throw yourself at other men." He waved her words away dismissively. "It's late and this is your hunger talking. Why don't I take you out for something to eat and we can focus on us and our future partnership."

Saving her work with a stab of her finger, she shut down her computer and stood up. "There is no us and no future. You're not hearing me. I don't want to date you." Meredith made sure to enunciate clearly.

"Why not?" Seward ran his hand through his hair and shoved a chair out of his way.

Pulling on the minimal strings of her patience, she gave him a simple answer. She hated the awkwardness of breaking up with people. "I'm not having fun."

Scowling, he crossed his arms. "What does that even mean?" he demanded _again_.

_Did he not understand English? She'd tried to be nice, but now he was asking for it._ "It means that I find you boring and unattractive. Your intellect is average and you're a bad kisser. The most exciting thing about our dates was the food and even the food wasn't that great."

Seward dropped his hands to fist by his sides. Red flushed his cheekbones and his eyes narrowed. "You're cheating on me with that Sheppard guy, aren't you?" He dropped his chin.

"What?" _She couldn't believe him._ "You're even stupider than I thought. I'm not cheating because we aren't dating. I told you I was done. I said to leave me alone. Get a clue!"

Seward began pacing like a caged tiger between her and the closed door, shooting her angrier looks on every tight pass.

Caution finally managed to kick some sense into Meredith and highlighted Seward's alarming behavior. Being alone with an angry man wasn't a good scenario. She began easing towards the exit.

_Bang!_ Seward slammed a hand down on the desk next to her, blocking her escape."Oh, I'm getting a clue alright. You've been using me all along. Do you know how much money I've spent on you?"

Goosebumps sprang to life up and down her spine. "Now just calm down, Captain. We had a good first date but the rest went from bad to worse. You have to know that as well as I do." The mean look in his eye scared her. "We're going to be working together so let's just walk away and forget this ever happened. If the money's that big a deal, I can pay you back."

A muscle ticked in Seward's jaw. "You're going to pay me back, alright. You act so superior and prissy, but you're just a girl like any other. This is ridiculous." Dropping his hand, he unbuckled his belt.

Going lightheaded, Meredith jerked back, stumbling into the edge of her desk.

Seward breathing accelerated as his belt came free. "I've had enough of your frigid and spoiled attitude. You owe me sex for all the crap I've put up with. It's time a man taught you your place."

Darting left, Meredith tried to get around him to sprint for the door. Unfortunately, Seward was too close and too big to escape. He grabbed her arm and threw her hard into the side of her desk, caging her with his body. "I'm in charge now," he growled, breathing heavily against her face.

"No!" she cried, arching and struggling to get away. The corner of the computer monitor dug painfully into her back. "Stop it! Let go! Help!" Wrenching her hands up, she raked at his face and neck with her nails. Seward reared back with an oath, but not far enough for her to wiggle free.

Eyes full of lust and domination, he backhanded her across the face. Stunned by the blow, Meredith couldn't stop him from ripping her shirt open with a shriek of tortured fabric. Buttons pinged across the desk and onto the ground.

"You're going to take it and like it," he grunted. "And you're going to say thank you after."

"Never," she gasped, aiming a knee at his groin. He blocked it with his thigh and hit her across the face again. Tears streamed down her rapidly swelling face and black spots skittered across her vision.

Seward grabbed a handful of her hair to use as a handle to pull her upright. Meredith cried out in pain as hair ripped from her scalp. Dragging her over to the next desk, he threw her face-down. Cruel hands ripped the remnants of her shirt down her arms and yanked hard at her waistband, trying to pull it down. Wet lips mouthed at her bare shoulders excitedly as he ground against her, getting in his own way as he tried to tug her pants down off her hips.

Hyperventilating, Meredith's scrabbling hands searched frantically for a way to save herself. Her vision filled with pulsing black spots. Unexpectedly, her fingertips bumped into something angular. Stretching desperately, her hand closed over a hexagonal polygon: the ancient clock! Scrunching up her shoulders, she slammed her head back into Seward's face with a satisfying crunch.

"Son of a-" he snarled nasally as his nose dripped scalding blood onto the cold skin of her back. In his pain, Seward reared back enough for her to twist sideways beneath his body.

Swinging her weapon with as much force as possible, she clocked him across the face with the Ancient clock. Grunting, he staggered back and began raising his hands defensively, but not fast enough. She hit him on the backswing again, and again, and again, pursuing him as he fell. The skin of his face broke like overripe fruit. Scarlet blood spattered everywhere. His body hit the floor and stopped moving. Meredith reared back and kicked him in the side and again in the groin. His body slid a few inches, but didn't otherwise react.

"You got him, it's okay, you got him," she gasped, stumbling back towards the phone on her desk. She made sure to keep Seward's body in sight in case he rose like a zombie and tried to attack her again.

Pulling her pants up more firmly around her hips, she searched but couldn't find the button. It must have popped off. Luckily the zipper still worked. She zipped the pants as high as it would go around her hips. Next, she pulled her bra straps firmly up onto her shoulders. With her shirt in shreds on the floor, she didn't have a way to put herself more to rights.

It would have to be enough.

Feeling slightly more in control, she knocked the phone receiver off its cradle and dialed security one-handed. Picking it up, she held the phone against her ear. It only rang twice.

"Base security, how can I help you?" The Security Force officer sounded bored.

Meredith cleared her throat and tried to speak clearly. "You better come. I killed him. If he moves, I'll kill him again. I swear to God, I will."

"Where are you, ma'am?" the SF demanded anxiously, all traces of boredom gone.

"My lab, the main research lab, Ancient research. This is Mckay, did I tell you that? This is Dr. Mckay and I killed him." The black fuzz on the edge of her vision receded slightly, though one of her eyes and cheeks seemed to be swelling, making seeing on that side almost impossible. She became aware of nausea surging in her gut and had to swallow hard to keep herself from vomiting. Dropping the phone, she put a hand on the desk to steady herself and fought against passing out or throwing up.

It shouldn't take long for help to get here, but time seemed to distort queasily as if she found herself standing on the edge of a wormhole with her head grotesquely swollen out of time and the rest of her body stretching thin to dart away from the memories flashing in her brain. Trying to ground herself, she stared at the marching numbers on the clock. Unfortunately, she couldn't remember what time she'd started at. Without that reference, the numbers were meaningless.

_No, not meaningless._ The clock still measured a unit of time and she could define that. A second corresponded to the movement of an electron from a ground state between the two hyperfine levels of the caesium 133 atom. Meredith breathed in and out. The clock seconds counted round and round from zero to fifty-nine to zero.

People would come.

Men would come.

Men would judge her. A powerful woman always faced scrutiny and judgment. She had to pull herself together, put on her mask. She had to be strong and protect herself.

Before she could do more than carefully wipe her cheeks, a knock came at the door. "Come in," she called firmly. Everything was normal. She was fine. It was fine.

The door rattled a few times before someone remembered to use their keycard. The light flashed and the door popped open. Security guards poured into the room. For some reason, she was having trouble counting them. It didn't matter. It was fine. She was fine.

"Dr. Mckay?" Turning she looked at the SF cautiously approaching her. He was blocking her view of Seward's body. She shifted to keep them both in sight. The SF stopped and gave her a look. She didn't want to recognize the emotion. People shouldn't be looking at her like that. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"Of course," she snapped weakly, turning her head to keep her unswollen eye where it could see everyone.

"He's alive," announced the SF crouched next to Seward's body.

Meredith swallowed and took a step back. "What?"

"You didn't kill him, Dr. Mckay. He won't be waking up anytime soon, but he's still breathing," the SF explained carefully.

"He-he attacked me. I know this looks bad, but he attacked me _first_," she stressed. The men exchanged looks. She was standing and Seward wasn't. That always looked bad. Plus Seward was one of their own, a military brother, and she just was an irritating civilian. Would they try to put her in prison for assault?

"We believe you, Dr. Mckay," the SF in front of her said soothingly. "I'm Lt. Babcock and I'm here to help. Can our medic, Corporal Taylor, look at you?" He gestured to a man behind him.

The Corporal was busy helping roll Seward's unconscious body onto a stretcher. He looked up when he heard his name. Giving a few quick orders to the people next to him, he stood up and came over purposefully.

Panic bubbled up from her chest. "No, don't touch me." She took another step back.

"I'm just here to help, Dr. Mckay," the corporal said, though he stopped moving forward at her words.

"Someone get Colonel Sheppard down here ASAP," ordered a growly voice by the door.

Turning to look, her vision swam for a moment before stabilizing. She knew that voice. "Major Clean?" her voice sounded strange and small, like a child's.

"Hey, Mckay," the major slowly stepped forward. "You look a little rough."

Frowning, she tried to think up a witty reply. For some reason, her brain wasn't responding correctly right now. "Are you here to make fun of me?"

His face became upset. "No, I just want to help. You can trust me not to hurt you. You know that, right?"

Since Kindall and John both trusted him, she nodded slowly. An involuntary shiver racked her frame. It made her teeth chatter and sent pain sparking across her nerves. Meredith didn't like pain.

"You look cold. Can the medic give you a blanket?" he asked.

"No," she quickly refused, shuffling sideways a step. Meredith couldn't stand the thought of a stranger touching her right now.

"Alright, that's okay," the Major said soothingly, though a muscle in his jaw ticked unhappily. He gave the SFs a look and they all moved back. "You're in shock, Mckay. You need to get warm and have your wounds checked in the infirmary. The doctors could help you feel better."

Reaching up, he began unbuttoning his shirt. The action made her feel skittish, muscles tensing up and down her back. Her fingers clenched. His shirt came off, revealing a white tank top, dark skin peppered with scars, and bulging muscles. Carefully he held the shirt out. "Here, you can wear this. I just put it on, so it's clean and warm."

Meredith was confused. "Is this pity? I don't want your pity." Despite her attempt to sound angry, a tear escaped to trickle down her cheek.

"It's respect and sympathy, Mckay." He put the shirt down on her desk and stepped back with his hands held open non-threateningly. "Please take the shirt."

Meredith wasn't wearing a shirt. It was cold and the room was full of men. Putting a shirt on right now was logical. Blowing out a shaky breath, she forced herself to step forward and pick it up. Despite how huge the shirt was, she couldn't get her arm to fit into the sleeve.

"You need to empty your hand first," the major said evenly.

Looking down in confusion, she realized that she still had the bloody clock clutched in her white-knuckled fist. "Oh." Rapidly darkening bruises, pink scrapes, and red blood speckled her pale arms and torso like an exploding nebula. Forcing her hand to unclench, she put the clock down on her desk with a dull _clank_. Her fingers ached at the emptiness. She flexed them uncomfortably and stared, getting lost in the red-stained creases and whorls.

"The shirt?" prompted the major.

Meredith blinked and came back to herself. "Right." She slipped the shirt over her shoulders with a wince, the movement sending sharp bolts through muscles strained during the assault.

A sudden surge of voices from the hall made her head shoot up and her eyes go wide. Seconds later, John pushed his way into the room and skidded to a stop at seeing her. Their eyes met. "Oh Rome," he said, face burning with sorrow and rage.

Seeing John's familiar face, Meredith felt her hard shell dissolve. "He-he hit me," she said, her lip trembling, "and ripped off my shirt. He hu-hurt me."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'll kill him," John promised with dark intensity. In contrast to his gravelly voice, John's hands reached out gently, pulling her into the softest of hugs. Meredith's borrowed shirt flapped around her waist and slid down her shoulders. John carefully lifted the shirt back into place and rubbed her back in a careful and undemanding rhythm.

In John's arms, Meredith felt warm and safe. For a second, nothing hurt. Then it all came surging back.

Hiccuping, she tangled her fingers into the front of John's shirt and laid her forehead on his chest. Her bare torso pressed against the cold buttons of his uniform. "I already tr-tried to kill him. It didn't work," she sniffled.

"She did a pretty good job," the major told John. "When we got here, he was unconscious on the floor with his face all busted up."

John dropped a kiss on the top of her head and sent a murderous glare Seward's way as the SFs took him away down the hall. "Good job, Sweetheart. However, you have a few injuries too. We need to get you to the infirmary, alright?"

"Okay," she breathed out shakily. Lifting her chin, Meredith stepped back and wiped a hand across her face.

"Good. Let's get you on that other stretcher," John nodded to the side.

Pressing her lips flat, she shook her head carefully. "No, I'm not being carried out of here like a victim." The split on her lip stung, forcing her to relax the expression.

Brow creasing, John swallowed. "C'mon, Rome," he coaxed. Fingers trembling, he reached out and buttoned up her borrowed shirt. "You can barely stand without swaying. You'll be more comfortable if you let them carry you. It'll be just like a Queen on promenade."

"I can't show that much weakness," she said stubbornly, "especially walking past all the rubberneckers and jackals who'll take any chance to try and tear me down. Half of them will think I deserved it for being an irritating and difficult woman. But you're right about one thing, I am a Queen and they will see that. They may call me the Queen Bitch behind my back, but I'm still a Queen."

"Fine," John said in a clipped voice, obviously not happy but willing to give in if it got her moving. Stepping to the side, he offered her his arm.

Despite her strong words, she took it gratefully. Every time she moved, the world tilted in a slow gyration. They only made it halfway across the room before she lost the fight with her stomach. Gagging, she bent forward, only to have someone shove a garbage can in front of her face just in time to catch the vomit. John kept her upright and her hair out of the way until she finished convulsing.

"Thanks," she said thickly, pausing to spit. "Good save, Mr. Clean."

"Just living up to the name," said the major as he dropped the dirty trash can on top of Zalenka's desk. Looking around, he grabbed a clean one and came back to hover by her side. Zalenka was going to kill her for that.

"The stretcher's right there," John begged. "You don't have to prove anything."

"I can keep going. Just don't let go of my arm," she ordered, grabbing him tightly and putting one foot in front of the other. The world swayed and black speckled her vision, but she successfully made it into the hall and turned towards the elevator. Sure enough, despite the late hour, people lingered in the doorways as they passed, staring and breaking into a flurry of whispers. She made sure to keep her head held high and her expression serene, despite the swelling cheek and blood-caked hair. They reached the elevator and her small party—made up of John, the major, and the two SFs who'd introduced themselves—entered. As soon as the doors closed, she put her head down, closed her eyes, and began to sway.

Swearing, John turned and swung her up into his arms. "You've made your point. Just let me hold you, dammit."

"No, put me down," she protested crabbily. "I'm too fat to be carried."

"Rome, you're not fat, you're soft and pleasantly plump. I've carried field packs that weigh more than you. Besides, if you're that bothered by your weight, join us in the gym more often, not just the two weeks before your physicals." Sighing in defeat, she put her head down on his shoulder and let John tuck her more securely against his body.

The elevator opened and John stepped out, carrying her down the hall and into the infirmary. "Is Carson Beckett on duty?" John demanded.

"We called him in," the nurse said, gesturing them back behind into a private room. "He's just washing up."

Seconds later, Carson came bustling in. "Oh, Meredith, I'm so sorry, lass," he said, brogue thick with emotion as he pulled on a pair of gloves.

Meeting her friend's eyes, she nodded slightly to show she'd heard. Turning to the rest of the room, Carson ordered, "Everyone needs to wait outside until I've fixed Meredith up."

Clenching her hand hard on John's wrist, she blinked back tears. "John can stay, right?" Her breathing felt tight in her chest.

"If that's what you want," Carson agreed easily. Ushering everyone else out of the room firmly, he closed the door.

* * *

AN: Possible Trigger Warning for attempted sexual assault in this chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 12**

* * *

"_Rome wasn't built in a day, but it burned in one."_

_-French Proverb, alternate version_

The next morning, Meredith woke up to find Jack O'Neill sitting next to her hospital bed. He was staring at the wall with a dark look on his face. "Jack?" she asked groggily, hitting the button to raise the head of the bed. She had to turn her head to see him since the nearest eye was swollen shut.

Expression going tight, he handed her a styrofoam cup of water with a straw and some pills. "Morning, Meredith. How are you feeling?"

"Like some bastard smacked me in the face a few times, what do you think?" she grumbled, downing the pills in one gulp and then a swig of water. Grimacing, she took a few more swallows to wash away the bitter taste. The scab on her lip split again because she wasn't careful, coating her tongue unpleasantly with copper. She dabbed it with the back of her hand and felt sorry for herself.

Posture stiff, Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm sorry. Your testimony and the security video from your lab makes it crystal clear what happened. We're going to make sure he's punished to the full extent of the law. Seward's going to be dishonorably discharged and sent to Leavenworth. After, that is, he wakes up from the head trauma."

"Is there a chance he won't?" she asked, unsure what she wanted the answer to be.

Jack shrugged. "The docs seem pretty convinced he'll recover, but you never know. We'll keep you posted one way or another because of the trial."

Frowning, Meredith put the cup back on her tray and pushed it to the side. "Will he wiggle free if I'm not here to testify? The expedition's set to leave soon."

Sitting up straighter in his chair, Jack clasped his hands and examined the handwashing sign by the sink with unusual focus. "No, we've got the video and your sworn testimony to nail him to the wall, but about Atlantis..." he cleared his throat uneasily.

Looking at his face, Meredith abruptly knew. Her hopes turned to rust and ash. "_No_. No, Jack, no. Don't say it, not today, not now, _please _don't," she begged, the vision in her one good eye going blurry with tears.

Jaw clenching, O'Neill gave her the respect of meeting her watery gaze. "This morning, the IOA announced Troy Forrester as Chief Science and Research Officer for the Atlantis expedition."

Meredith jerked as if receiving a punch to the gut. The words echoed back and forth in her mind. An involuntary whimper escaped her mouth. Her heartbeat jumped and she began to feel compressed by an unbearable weight.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, especially after what happened last night and with you still in the hospital, but I didn't want you to overhear it as gossip or from a gloating phone call. You deserve better."

Looking down, he rubbed his thighs. "At least this means that you can go to Manudia now. We just got word that they've agreed to that update of the defense screen we once offered. You made me promise to let you know if they ever needed anything, remember?"

Jack winced and rubbed his face, his voice going rough as he said, "Sorry, of course you remember. I know that better than anyone. I should've waited to bring it up, but the Manudia specifically requested you since it's been over two years since they saw you last and the doc who was read in on that mission thought it might give you a chance to make some sort of peace with what happened, but hell, what does he know? If you don't want to go, I'll find someone else. I'm sorry."

Each word busted through another support beam propping up her reality, echoing and ricocheting devastatingly through Meredith's mind. She might've been able to pull out of it if Jack hadn't mentioned going to Manudia again, but the reminder of what she'd lost there on top of being attacked last night and losing Atlantis to Troy finally broke her.

The surface of Meredith's skin turned to ice, a wasteland scoured by subzero winds. Starting at the tips of her fingers, everything tingled painfully and went numb. The shards of ice razored up her wrists, past her elbows, and into her shoulders, constricting around her throat. The smell of the detergent in the sheets and the antiseptic on her wounds became unbearably nauseating. The weight of her grief and disappointment became unbearable. Her heart galloped and skipped in panic. She was choking, the air a solid block of ice in her throat.

This was going to kill her.

The monitor next to her bed beeped shrilly.

"Damn it, Meredith, don't do this!" Jack jumped up from the chair. "Breathe normally!" Through her terror, she heard him curse again.

People ran into the room. Her world compressed into pain and panic and _bad_. The strange hands touching her just made everything worse. She tried to fight them off but wasn't strong enough.

"She's having a panic attack," someone announced.

Meredith knew that. She was in the middle of it. Knowing didn't help.

Time skipped unpredictably. Sweat soaked her skin and bile burned in her throat. Several male nurses had come in at some point while she'd been struggling. She didn't like it. Her eyes latched onto Jack's desperately. It was still hard to breathe.

Jack took her hand and squeezed firmly. "You're going to be okay, Meredith. I'm sure you don't like feeling this way, but you're going to be fine. You're safe. You're strong and you're going to get through this. It's a temporary setback. Try to breathe in and out. I'm here and I'll make sure you aren't left alone."

Meredith tried to focus on Jack's face as he spoke with calm and authority. "You've been dealt a bad hand, but the game isn't over. I don't blame you for taking this badly. Did you know I once broke the window of General Hammond's car at a wake for Daniel? Luckily, Daniel didn't stay dead. Once you get out of here, we can go through the parking lot with a baseball bat, though I'll have to move my car first. We should start with Daniel's. He deserves it for dying on me so many times."

Wheezing a laugh, Meredith tried to bring her breathing under control. It wasn't working very well. Afraid, she met Jack's eyes and clutched at his fingers.

"You're doing great, just keep trying to breathe," he encouraged.

Turning his head, he snapped, "Can't you give her something?"

"It's coming," a nurse said.

Seconds later, a baby-faced lieutenant trotted in and went straight for Meredith's arm, injecting a syringe into the muscle. It tingled like mint, pushing through her veins and creeping across her chest. The bird-trapped-inside-a-room whirling of her thoughts slowed along with the racing of her heart.

Sucking in a ragged breath through the vice clamped around her chest, she clenched her eyes and began reciting the digits of pi. Gradually the weight disappeared and breathing became easier. Her body warmed. She kept going until she felt confident that she could open her eyes without shattering into a thousand pieces. It might still feel like she was falling apart, but she now had just enough control to hide it.

Opening her eyes, she let go of O'Neill's hand. A military nurse tucked a heated blanket around her body. She swatted away his rough hands. "I'm fine now. Leave me alone and go file your nails or something."

"Are you sure, Dr. Mckay?" The young lieutenant looked like he was straight out of basic. "You probably shouldn't be alone right now."

Meredith had to turn her head to see the nurse's face since he stood on her bad side. "Are you even old enough to be trusted with needles?"

He crossed his arms with a huff.

"Get out!" Meredith ordered harshly. The nurses in the room shared a look and then left without further protest.

Grimly satisfied, she turned a flat expression on O'Neill. "You too, General. You're always here for my worst moments, but I'd like some privacy now. Unless you'd like to poke out my only good eye or tell me my cat died? No? Then get out."

Deep lines carved across O'Neill's forehead and the corners of his mouth, making him look old and weary. "I'm sorry. If you need anything, let me know." Shoulders bowed, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Just to prove she could, Meredith stayed glaring at the door for a full minute, keeping her breathing even and her expression arrogant. No one came back.

Satisfied, she turned her back to the door and curled up on her side. Pulling the sheet over her head, she pressed the pillow against her face and broke down into wretched, defeated sobs.

* * *

"_Rome _wasn't _deconstructed in a day."_

_-EDWARD ST. AUBYN, Lost for Words_

* * *

Several hours later, Meredith checked out of the infirmary. She'd asked Miko to drive her home to her condo off-base. John had wanted to help, but she'd turned him down.

The double-whammy of John going to Atlantis without her and him having the same hair as Seward meant that just looking at him right now made her want to scream. Plus, she felt uneasy at the thought of being alone with any man right now, even John, the person she trusted most in the world. It was dumb but she was a train wreck right now and allowed to be dumb. She probably wouldn't be able to endure a hug from behind for the rest of her life, the rest of her long and lonely life spent on Earth instead of Atlantis.

Whatever the case, John didn't deserve her anger and hostility. Even if he was willing to put up with it, he shouldn't have to. They'd only been dating for a few days. Considering they'd have to break up when he disappeared through the wormhole without her, she needed some time to get herself together. If she had to lose him along with everything else, she wanted their final memories together to be good ones.

"Thanks again," she told Miko as the car rolled to a stop in front of her condominium.

"We female scientists have to stick together," Miko replied. "Besides, it got me out of work early on a Friday."

Unsure whether to laugh or scowl, Meredith unbuckled her seatbelt and gingerly extricated herself from the car. Her aches flared up at the motion. She couldn't wait to shower off the last twenty-four horrible hours and put on some new underwear that was clean and hadn't been seen by half the base. No one had thought to go to her on-base quarters to get her new clothes and she'd been so desperate to leave that she hadn't been willing to make a detour herself.

Without asking, Miko got out of the car and walked Meredith upstairs. Blinking at her door, Meredith had a horrible realization. "I forgot my keys." She had to fight hard not to burst into tears at the setback. Her emotional swings were getting ridiculous.

"Don't worry," Miko said calmly, stepping forward to lift the rug and pull out the keys to unlock the door.

Meredith didn't bother wondering why her keys were under the rug when she'd last seen them in her purse at work.

They walked inside and Meredith did a double-take. Sunlight shone off the polished floorboards and highlighted the vacuum lines on the spotless floor rugs. The scent of lavender floated pleasantly through the air. "Are you sure this is my apartment?" Looking back, she double-checked the number on the open door.

Miko glanced around curiously. "Why? Is something wrong?"

Moving into the kitchen, Meredith opened the pantries to find them full of her favorite snacks and the fridge bursting with readymade meals, red jello cups, and sliced fruits and vegetables. Even the cat bowl was mounded with kibble and the water bowl filled. Lips tilting in bemusement, she walked back to the living room and dropped down into her recliner. "Usually when I come home, this place is a dank, dark cave devoid of food except for expired ketchup. Dust bunnies fight the bugs for the crumbs littering the creases of the furniture."

"Then this must be a pleasant surprise," Miko smiled gently.

Meredith looked around the room again with confusion. "But who did it? Who cares enough to even bother?"

Leaning against the couch, Miko shook her head fondly. "Despite being a genius, you can sometimes be remarkably stupid, my friend."

"Hey, don't mock the battered lady here," Meredith frowned.

"Very well," Miko looked away and repositioning the throw pillows that had come with the furniture until they sat perfectly square. "You may have a prickly exterior, but inside your heart is true. Not everyone is blind to it." She shot Meredith a sideways look.

Meredith squirmed uncomfortably at the praise.

"If I had to guess," Miko said, "I would say that your friends cleaned your home and stocked it with food to remind you that no matter what happens, you are cared for." Blinking rapidly, Meredith turned and pretended to look at the clouds outside the window.

Miko continued, "After you asked me to take you home earlier today, Colonel Sheppard stopped by my desk for your house keys and a request that I drive slowly when we finally left. Several people gathered in the hallway while we talked. He took the crowd with him when he left."

"Oh," Meredith said weakly, completely unsure about how to react to such unexpected kindness. Clearing her throat, she decided to deal with it later. "Did you get what I asked?"

Frowning, Miko pulled a flash drive from her purse. "I don't think knowing what was said at the meeting will make you feel better. The IOA is full of pigs."

"That's an insult to pigs," Mckay said bitterly, taking the drive. "But I still want to know why they didn't choose me, one way or another."

"Very well, but why don't you freshen up first and look it over once you are clean. I'll retrieve your cat from your neighbor." Miko gave her a sympathetic look and turned towards the door.

"Wait," something swam up from Meredith's memory, "don't you have some flower arranging exhibit tonight? I was going to let you leave early for it. You won't make it if you stick around here too long."

"You are more important." After that simple statement, Miko left, closing the door softly behind her.

"I know that. It's just that other people usually don't feel the same way," Meredith said to the empty room. Sniffling to clear her throat—and not because she was feeling emotional, thank you very much—she got up and went to take a shower. She locked her bedroom door and then the bathroom door too. It wasn't that she didn't trust Miko, it just made her feel better.

After one quick and disturbing look at herself in the mirror, she kept her one good eye averted. Everything she wore went straight into the trash. She never wanted to see it again and the bloodstains would be a pain to get out anyway. Surprisingly she didn't cry in the shower, that cliche of female victims.

Feeling proud of herself, she got dressed in a butter-soft cashmere sweater and her favorite black leggings that she refused to throw away despite the bleach-stain on one thigh. Combing her hair the bare minimum to baby her tender scalp, she pulled it back into a loose ponytail with a scrunchie.

Finally clean and dressed, Meredith plopped down on her bed. She grabbed a spare laptop and plugged in the flash drive from Miko. Not letting herself hesitate, she opened the file Miko had hacked for her detailing the written minutes of the IOA's most recent meeting.

As Miko had warned, the file only made Meredith more angry and upset. Her gender was never explicitly addressed, but derogatory words used almost exclusively for women in power peppered the document: bossy, abrasive, whining, high-maintenance, hysterical, pushy, and shrill.

The British rep had the gall to say that Mckay had, "a grating and emotional personality, which would be dangerous in an isolated community like Atlantis."

Never mind the dozens of other irritating people given the green light to go, Dr. Peter Kavanaugh being just one shining example. Of course, since he wasn't a woman his lack of social skills weren't mission relevant.

Russia's rep criticized how scientists under Mckay's supervision shot a missile at General O'Neill and almost killed him, smugly adding that such a thing would never happen with Russian personnel.

Once again, the IOA ignored how almost the exact same scenario had happened under Troy in Antarctica.

Even one of the American reps, Strom, threw her under the bus, bringing up how, "Mckay's callous and arrogant actions almost led to Teal'c, one of our oldest and most valuable alien allies, dying in a gate malfunction."

The backward compliments from US rep Marrick made her equally enraged. "Being shrill and high-maintenance hasn't kept her from making significant technological advancements for the SGC. She'd be useful to keep around on Earth in case the Ori threat intensifies."

"That's a good point," Strom the sanctimonious replied. "Someone just needs to throw a few pretty compliments her way as a sop to her pride, maybe beef up her research grants, and I'm sure she'll quickly get over the disappointment of not getting picked for the job."

As if she was some schoolgirl disappointed about not getting asked to the dance in 1904, instead of a cutting-edge scientist unfairly being denied access to a premier research station in 2004.

The rest of the meeting read the same, with arguments of how Dr. Troy Forrester was probably just as smart and capable (_lies_!) and would balance the command staff out better (_read: because he had a dick_) than Mckay. The IOA's narrow-minded arrogance and smugness made her see red.

Needing an outlet for her violent feelings, Meredith ripped out the flash drive and marched into the kitchen, past where Miko sat on the couch reading with the cat in her lap. "This isn't your favorite flash drive or anything, right?" Meredith demanded.

"Um, no? It was just a spare." Miko bookmarked her book and put it down next to the cat.

"Good. Hedy, go hide under my bed for a moment, please," Meredith directed. The cat hopped down from Miko's lap and trotted into the bedroom obediently. The smell of the treat Meredith had stashed in there probably helped.

"Her name's Hedy?" Miko followed the cat with her eyes.

"After Hedy Lamarr." Opening the closet, Meredith pulled out her toolbox and unlatched it, taking out a hammer.

"Ah, of course, she was a smart woman ahead of her time." Miko dusted cat hair off of her pants. "She could have advanced science so much if people had just focused more on her brilliant ideas than on the beauty of her face, though some argue that she only got the opportunity because of that beauty and her acting talent."

Grunting in agreement, Meredith placed the flash drive on the cutting board and lifted her arm. _BANG_! She brought her hammer down, shattering the flash drive and sending pieces shooting out in all directions.

"Oh!" Miko jumped, then shook her head and chuckled quietly. "Yes, I felt that way about the IOA's words too. It is distressing that they have so much power over the program and my future."

Tossing the hammer back into the toolbox, Meredith swept the shards of plastic and metal into the trash. "So what's for dinner?" she asked, going into the bedroom and returning with the disgruntled Hedy in her arms.

"I was thinking pasta salad or cold chicken from the fridge unless you're craving something in particular?" Miko raised her eyebrows in inquiry.

"I'd love some Potato Cheese Soup in a bread bowl from _McAlister's Deli._ That or their Four Cheese Griller Sandwich," Meredith answered longingly. "However, I feel bad making you go fetch it considering you already canceled your plans for tonight. Since I rarely feel bad about inconveniencing other people, you should cherish this moment. It's unlikely to be repeated anytime soon."

Miko snorted. "Don't worry, I'm not under any illusions about you, my friend. Luckily you have a delivery driver waiting outside." She gestured to the window.

"What are you talking about?" Going to the window, Meredith tucked Hedy under her chin and looked down to see a car parked at the curb. John sat inside with his feet up on the dash, making notes on a folded open file. "Why is John out there?"

"He wanted to be nearby in case you needed anything. I think dinner counts. Should we call him?" Miko cocked her head to the side. "He told me to tell you that he can just leave whatever you need on the doorstep if you'd prefer not to see him."

"What an idiot," Meredith said, affection swelling in her chest. "Hand me that phone."

Miko passed it over and Meredith dialed the number from memory. She almost laughed at seeing John jerk in surprise and hit his head on the roof of the car. Despite that, the phone only rang twice before he picked it up with a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hey delivery boy, I have an order. If you can get it here still hot, I'll invite you inside and give you a good tip." Leaning against the window frame, she looked down through the glass into his familiar green eyes.

"With a promise like that, you can bet I'll fly the whole way there and back." John leaned out the window to better look up and see her face. His voice became low and devastatingly sincere, "I'd do anything for a lady like you."

Hoping he could see the love in her eyes, Meredith gave him a tremulous smile. "My lucky day."


	13. Chapter 13

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 13**

* * *

"_Rome is not like any other city. It's a big museum, a living room that shall be crossed on ones tiptoes."_

_-ALBERTO SORDI_

Come Monday morning, Meredith popped the maximum number of pain pills allowed by Carson, made sure she could see out of both eyes, got in her car (which she'd had fetched from the Mountain), and drove into work. The bruising on her face had bloomed into an absolutely wonderful shade of bluish-black, the perfect compliment to the maroon scabs of her healing lacerations. Despite John's disapproval, she refused to stay home binge-watching tv shows when she could be at work making interesting discoveries. She had nothing to be ashamed of and she was tired of resting. If anyone said something nasty or stared too long at her wounds, she'd just unleash the sharp side of her tongue and make them regret it.

As expected, she received a lot of sideways, uncomfortable stares, but no one was dumb enough to say anything directly. John "just happened" to run into her at the security check-in and accompanied her to the lab to test more ancient artifacts. Considering she wouldn't have any helpers to activate things pretty soon, she had no compunction about trading on his guilt to get more work out of his Ancient genes. That it also netted her the pleasure and buffer of his company was merely a side-benefit. Really.

Unfortunately, her cocky mood faltered upon entering the Ancient Research lab. Somehow she'd forgotten that it was also the site of her assault. Three steps into the room, she froze like she'd just been splashed with liquid nitrogen. They'd cleaned up, but her monitor still sat crooked and she could see the outline of Seward's body on the floor when she blinked. She felt lightheaded.

John took one look at her probably bloodless face and reached out, taking her arm in a grounding touch. He sent a speaking look to Miko and Zelenka, who anxiously hovered nearby. "Wait. If I'm going to be your technology slave all day, I need a snack first." John tugged Meredith back out into the hall.

Strangely out of breath, Meredith let John guide her down the hall with a hand on her lower back. "Didn't you already have breakfast?"

"I'm still hungry," he answered easily.

"Okay," Meredith said meekly.

Their detour to the break room took about twenty minutes. Meredith was secretly grateful that it was mostly deserted except for two scientists hunched over their food and papers who were oblivious to the rest of the world. John insisted on buying something from the vending machine despite not having any cash. They spent a solid five minutes wandering around trying to find an ATM. John drew her out with a discussion on the impressive aerodynamics of the new fighter jets currently in production.

At several points, she thought about telling John to just go to the DFAC for something fresh, but she shied away from confronting so many people at once, especially people who might be Seward's coworkers and friends.

Finally, John found an ATM to get money to buy his food, but then they had to return to the break room on her floor before he'd eat it.

As much as she enjoyed talking math and planes with John, Meredith told herself to stop hiding. She had to get back to work. She needed to feel normal. Steeling herself, she marched back to her lab with John.

However, just outside the door, Zelenka waylaid them. "Dr. Mckay, they moved the safety training to our Ancient Research lab for the morning. Since they'll be starting in just a few minutes, we took the liberty of moving the Ancient artifacts to the lab next door for you and Colonel Sheppard to work on."

John nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Dr. Zelenka."

"Good thinking," Meredith approved, secretly relieved.

Taking off his glasses, Zelenka frowned and looked down to polish them on his shirt. "I also wanted to say that I'm so sorry. If I'd just stayed late that night or pushed you harder to leave—"

"No." Meredith blew out her breath. "Don't play that game. I don't blame you and neither should you. Only one person is at fault and he's bound for Leavenworth."

Putting his glasses back on, Zelenka cleared his throat. "Yes, well, if you need anything, I'll be just down the hall being brilliant. Happily, we get to put off our extra safety training until next week."

Despite the rocky emotional start, the next couple of hours went uneventfully. Getting into the groove of work, Meredith could almost forget about her problems, at least until she shifted too quickly and awoke aching muscles and healing wounds. John had helped her identify almost half a box of Ancient devices when a knock came at the door.

"I'll get it," Miko said from where she'd taken up station as an unofficial gatekeeper at a desk by the door.

Every time Meredith thought about how she was losing not just John to Atlantis, but Miko, Carson, and her budding friendship with Zelenka too, her innards turned to calcified pipes.

A few seconds later, Miko came back with a box in her arms, thankfully distracting Meredith from her morose thoughts. "Delivery for you, Dr. Mckay." Miko was always more formal when other people were around, especially in work settings. She refused to call Meredith by her first name unless they were alone, despite having more than earned it. Meredith made a mental note to order Miko a bouquet of flowers and some high-end chocolates.

"Did security check it out first?" John asked suspiciously.

Meredith grabbed the box before he could. Mysterious boxes usually meant something fun and interesting. Manilla envelopes tied with a red cord were what you really had to watch out for. "You can see security's stamp on the top along with the new tape. I'm sure it's fine."

Tilting the box, she checked the label. "Oh, I've been looking forward to this. It's from Sheppard Energy." Glancing up, she shot Miko a warning look. "I don't want to hear a peep from you about what's in this, Miko, or what you think it says about my so-called heart. It's private, got it?" Shooting Meredith an offended look, Miko returned to her work with a huff.

John bent closer, curious now for an entirely different reason. "Do you think the astrophysicist will look like you?" he whispered.

"In all the superficial ways," Meredith answered, slitting the tape, "but in appearance, the standard doll has brown hair and eyes, so I'm trying not to expect too much."

The first thing she pulled out was a thin green box. Opening the lid, she pulled back the tissue paper and lifted out the blouse with screwdriver pinstripes and screw head patterned buttons. It was perfect. Unexpectedly she found a second shirt underneath. It had dark gray fabric with pinstripes that were small physics formulas printed in white, red, blue, and green. A slip of paper fell out when she picked the shirt up:

_Thanks for letting me keep the car… and my brother. _

_I'm glad you finally got together, too. _

—_Dave. _

Smiling crookedly, Meredith put the shirts back in the green box and set it aside.

Next, she lifted out a box from MadiDress. Inside she found four adorable but strong looking Madison Adventure Dolls. Turning them over in her hands, she couldn't help but smile. The little Maddies would love these. Doli had done a great job using the right kind of beret and uniform on the marine and keeping off the cliche nerd glasses from the astrophysicist.

"They did a good job," John said from over her shoulder, his breath moving across her ear.

Meredith flinched, jumping up and spinning around, knocking the green box onto the floor in the process. Grabbing the boxcutter, she backed up until she hit the wall. Heart pounding, mouth dry, she brandished the boxcutter defensively.

Face stricken, John took three big steps backward. "Rome?" His hands hovered non-threateningly in the air. "I'm sorry I startled you, but you have to know I'd never hurt you. Never." Brow creasing like the Grand Canyon, he swallowed hard. "Rome, it's me, John."

Blinking, Meredith returned to herself. She breathed out shakily and slowly lowered the boxcutter. Miko had turned in her chair and was watching them both.

How embarrassing.

Closing her eyes, Meredith swallowed and recited the digits of pi until her pulse slowed down. When she felt more composed, she put the boxcutter away in her desk drawer and sat back down at her desk, picking the green box up off the floor. Clearing her throat, she apologized briskly, "Sorry. Let me just put these boxes away and we can get back to work."

Pulling out the MadiDress box, she took out one Marine Sergeant and one Astrophysicist doll, putting them in the larger box from Sheppard Industries and leaving the other two dolls for Kindall. Meredith slid her green clothing box into the larger box and closed the flap. She shoved both boxes down under her desk and returned to the open file on her screen. "Now, where were we with that bowling pin-shaped device?"

They'd only identified two more Ancient devices—neither anything useful—when they were interrupted by another knock on the door. Miko answered again, but this time she turned back empty-handed. "Col. Sheppard, it's for you."

Standing up, John placed himself casually between Meredith and the door, gesturing for Miko to let in his visitor. A pretty redheaded Marine walked inside, the one John liked to get sweaty with in the gym. Immediately, Meredith's hackles went up.

"Did you need something, Lt. Cadman?" John tilted his head and leaned against the nearest desk.

"There's a logistics snafu that Col. Sumner needs you to take lead on," Cadman said with a twinkle in her eye. "Lt. Ford tried to fix it with admirable Marine gusto, but got… stuck. It was decided that someone with more seniority—someone in the chairforce more used to paperwork like yourself—might have more luck. Sir." She smirked.

"Gee wiz, that sure sounds fun," John answered dryly. "I think I'd rather let you knee me in the gut instead, but I suppose duty calls."

Turning back to Meredith, he gave an apologetic grimace. "I've got to go do this, but I'll come back as soon as I can."

Meredith didn't want him to go and not just because of the backlog of unidentified Ancient devices. He made her feel normal and safe, at least when he wasn't sneaking up behind her. John was also smart, funny, and fun. From their very first posting together, she'd always liked working with John Sheppard.

However, she was a big girl. "I'll be fine. Go do your day job, Sheppard, and prove that those oak leaves aren't just window dressing." She forced herself to wave him off casually.

"No pressure. Thanks, I appreciate that." He smiled wryly. Knocking on her desk in farewell, he moved to the door.

However, instead of following, Cadman stayed hovering in the middle of the room. Her teasing grin had faded into something awkward.

John looked over his shoulder from the doorway and frowned. "Is there a problem, Cadman?"

"No problem, sir. I just wanted to talk to Dr. Mckay for a second," she answered evasively.

"What about?" John tensed and turned back around, stalking back into the room.

Meredith wasn't feeling so thrilled about it either. The cheerful redhead who bantered so easily with John made Meredith feel twitchy. Not jealous, of course, because Meredith was too amazing to be jealous of other people, even gorgeous, fit, and perky redheads who'd be going to Atlantis with John while she was left behind.

Shifting in her chair, Meredith crossed her arms and did her best not to scowl.

Taking a breath, Cadman turned to look fully at Meredith's battered face, one of the few people who'd been able to meet Meredith's eyes this morning. It gave Meredith pause. There was something knowing and kind in her gaze.

Cadman pulled a folded paper out of her pocket and slid it across Meredith's desk. "I wanted to invite the Doc to our _Grace Under Fire_ meeting."

"What's that?" Meredith asked, reaching out with two fingers to drag the paper closer.

"It's a women's support group for survivors of MST - Military Sexual Trauma, an acronym we use to describe unwanted, persistent advances or sexual assault while serving," Cadman said. "We meet biweekly. It can help to have other women to talk to about the unwelcome feelings. It's also a great place to laugh and vent. You'd be welcome at any time and there are other female civilians who attend."

Opening the paper, Meredith looked over the details. She couldn't help but ask, "Were you…?" Awkwardly she glanced up at Cadman.

The redhead nodded, eyes clear. "People like to pretend otherwise, but at least twenty to thirty percent of women serving with the military deal with MST. It's getting better, but not fast enough. If you want to talk, or even just come and not say anything at all, you'd be welcome. It's better than pretending nothing's wrong all by yourself."

Blinking back tears, Meredith looked down to refold the paper and put it carefully in her desk. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"The name's Laura, Laura Cadman," she put one hand on her hip and winked, "but I know from the RUMINT that you probably won't remember it unless I do something to earn it." Grinning slyly, she left with a wave. "Take care, Mckay."

A sad-eyed Sheppard silently fell in by Cadman's side as they left the room.

When lunchtime rolled around, John still hadn't come back. Miko had left to fix a server issue in lab three, leaving Meredith alone at her own insistence when Miko had offered to have Zelenka take her place. Part of Meredith wanted to keep leaning on their strength, but another part needed her to stand up and prove that she was still just as strong as ever. Soon she'd have no choice but to stand on her own again, as she'd had to do for most of her life. It was better not to get too used to the support.

Hacking into the base's security feed, she searched for and found Sergeant Kindall and SG-15 in the DFAC. The room was full of rowdy soldiers. Some of them were probably Seward's friends. Meredith's fear arced like ungrounded electricity at the thought of going in there all by herself looking so obviously wounded and with the hateful gossip in full swing.

"Are you a woman or a mouse?" she asked shakily, forcing weak legs to stand. "Rome didn't conquer the world by hiding in Italy. That boot was made for walking," she pulled out the MadiDress box from under her desk, "and that's just what I'll do. Today's the day these boots are gonna walk all over you. Right? Right."

Buoyed by her pep talk, she dashed a quick note to Kindall about Dave's promise of future presents for his niece Madison and dropped it into the box with the dolls. Then she tucked it under her arm and set off for the DFAC.

The hallways and elevator were mostly empty, with those she passed too self-absorbed to take note of the battered woman. At first, she was grateful, but it made pushing through the doors outside the crowded DFAC all the more intimidating. Swallowing hard, Meredith kept her chin up and pushed open the doors, avoiding eye contact as she walked inside. She couldn't help but notice the way the sound muted as she moved through the room.

Refusing to let them see her flinch, Mckay stalked straight to where Kindall sat with the rest of SG-15. "Here," she said, shoving the box at him and forcing McLean to snatch Kindall's food tray out of the way so it wouldn't get squashed.

McLean had been there that night. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the face. It felt too awkward and vulnerable and she wanted to be strong right now. She had to be strong.

"I solved our problem," she forced herself to brag to Kindall as if this was a normal conversation on any other day. Her hands were shaking, so she hid them in her pockets.

Ignoring the box completely, Kindall looked at her discolored face with anger and sympathy. "I heard what happened. I'm so sorry, Mckay. How are you doing? Can I do anything?"

"I'm fine, just open the box," she said impatiently. Right now was for good things, not that.

Not that.

Nodding slowly, Kindall opened the flaps on the box. "Alright. Just don't forget that we're sisters-in-arms." He smiled weakly. "I'm here if you need anything." He sent her a warm look and then glanced down into the box. His expression froze and he stopped breathing.

"What is it, Sarge?" King leaned forward with irrepressible curiosity, her braid almost falling into the mashed potatoes on her tray. "Extra boxes of '_water filters_?'" she teased gently.

Standing up to see better, Dr. Dimples-McSmiles-a-lot huffed in amusement. "Are those dolls?"

McLean put a hand on the anthropologist's shoulder and shoved him firmly back down in his seat. "Shut up, Rigo."

Reaching down, Kindall reverently lifted the first doll out of the box. "It's my sister, Michelle." Blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, he ran a finger gently down the side of the Master Sergeant Madison Adventure Doll box. "How?"

Smugly pleased, Meredith rocked on her heels. "I pulled a few strings. There's an astrophysicist Madi Doll in there too and more to come. No matter what happens or where you go, your Madison won't feel neglected by her uncle. I made sure of it."

"This is—this is perfect." The naked gratitude on Kindall's face made Meredith feel uncomfortable. Rigo and King were staring at her with surprise while McLean looked friendly and almost proud. Abruptly it became too much.

"Well, good. Anyway, I gotta go." Turning on her heel, she quickly left the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**ROME**

By Indygodusk

**Episode 14**

* * *

"_I'll make a wish in every fountain_

_Say a prayer that you'll return_

_Minutes I'll be counting_

_May the fire of love still burn_

_I'll keep your picture by my pillow_

_And pretend I'm not alone_

_Make believe that you are with me_

_In the heart of Rome"_

_-ELVIS PRESLEY, "Heart of Rome"_

Over the next couple of months, Meredith found time passing much too quickly. Her skin became smooth and unblemished, but inside she felt riddled with cracks. She tried calling in favors and promising the near-impossible to get herself sorted to Atlantis, but all to no avail.

Troy tried calling to gloat. Meredith responded by hanging up on anyone with even a hint of a British accent. It garnered her a few complaints, but what were they really going to do at this point, fire her? With Troy leaving the planet, they needed her now more than ever.

Neither John nor Meredith wanted to talk about their separation, so they mostly didn't.

Except for once.

While lazily drinking bottles of sarsaparilla she'd bought the week before on accident while distracted at the store thinking about the first generation stardrives currently in production, John had stopped sipping and started picking at the label fitfully. A pile of paper shavings rapidly accumulated on his lap. Running out of the label, he said out of the blue, "I don't have to go to Atlantis. I could stay here and everything could just… stay the same."

Meredith got whiplash from the surge of selfish hope followed by anger, jealousy, and bitter practicality. Nostrils flaring, Meredith called him out. "Change has found you whether you want it or not, John Sheppard. Don't be an idiot! Of course you have to go to Atlantis! Besides the fact that it's probably the coolest thing you'll ever get the chance to do, do you really feel confident that your promotion doesn't have any strings attached and that they'll let you say no? I know Weir wants you even if Sumner doesn't and Weir is the IOA's golden girl who gets everything she wants. But even if they would allow it, are you really willing to risk seeing if Colonel Sumner and that Ford kid can keep my scientists alive and discover something to defend the Earth without your supergenes, skills, and talents on hand? Are you really?"

John's tight expression was as good as a resounding no. He may not want to care about anything but flying, but he did. He cared about people and he cared about duty. Working in her lab had given him a very good idea of just how rare his ability with Ancient tech was in the program, not to mention how little respect and attention many in the military accorded to the sciences. Working in the mountain had to have made him all too aware of how important this mission to Atlantis really was.

Instead of answering, John abruptly changed the subject.

After that, the elephant in the room stayed mostly under the dust cloth.

And if sometimes their kisses turned from soft to desperate and their hugs lasted a hair longer than comfortable, neither mentioned it.

Because of the built-in expiration date and Meredith's lingering trauma, they went slowly with the romantic side of their relationship. No one had used the word love yet. Obviously he did love her or they wouldn't have stayed in touch for so many years, and obviously she loved him because otherwise she wouldn't work so hard to try and make him happy, but somehow the word still never crossed their lips.

They'd also gone slowly with the physical intimacy. Neither wanted sex to be a goodbye and right now that's what it felt like it would turn into. She expected to resent it but instead found herself enjoying the slow pace. They did epic flirting and marathon make-outs where they did their best not to trigger any of her flashbacks. Knowing sex was off the table gave extra weight to the feel of his hand in hers and a special zing to the taste of his lips. It made lingering over every touch instead of racing to the finish line a lot of fun.

They fell into competing to see who could get the other the most hot and bothered before it was time to say goodnight at the door. John euphemistically called it "getting all dressed up with nowhere to go." She'd worry, but he always said it with a wink and a smile even on the nights he had to limp out to his car. Of course, sometimes he gave her a scorching kiss that left her dazed and staring at a closed door for a full minute before she snapped out of it with a sigh and remembered to turn the deadbolt.

If she could just forget the reason why they were going so slow, she might think everything was wonderful.

Time running out wasn't wonderful.

When departure day arrived, Meredith made sure to get to work bright and early. She'd wanted to wear something bright and cheerful to see people off and prove she wasn't broken, but her hands had overruled her head and pulled out a belted black dress with a collar and buttons. To compensate, she'd put on eyeshadow, mascara, and bold lipstick. She looked absolutely fantastic, but it was small comfort.

Despite noises made by several people about Meredith taking a vacation day, she insisted on seeing everyone off to Atlantis in the gateroom. They'd taken down bulkheads on either side to make room for all of the people and supplies. Pallets of boxes lay in numbered rows, ready to be pushed through in staggered order with groups of soldiers and civilians.

The grand arch of the Stargate soared over them all, quiescent for now. A probe sat in front of it, ready to go through and send back readings of the atmosphere as well as video of any possible threats. They had to make sure the space on the other side could support human life before sending anyone through. Meredith had put as many sensors on it as she could think of, as well as equipping several people and boxes with more recording devices that would transmit the data to a server on this end as long as the Stargate was open. If she couldn't go, she'd just have to get as much data as possible to study before the wormhole closed. There was a small chance that dialing with an extra symbol wouldn't get them to the Pegasus Galaxy, but she and everyone else were pretty confident it would work.

On the far side of the room, John's face looked so forcibly unconcerned that she feared it might crack from the strain. The thought of saying goodbye to him felt like being stabbed in the heart by a broken circuit board, so she veered towards the scientists instead.

Across the room, Meredith's eyes met Col. Marsha Sumner's. Meredith had cornered the woman for a private chat earlier that week. It had gone about as well as could be expected, which is to say not very well at all. Inclining her head in cool acknowledgment, Sumner turned away to sign something held out by a sergeant with a clipboard.

When Meredith reached the familiar faces of her scientists dressed in the unfamiliar uniforms of the Atlantis expedition—gray or khaki shirts, pants, and jackets with the blue triangles designating the Science Division over the chest and their country's flag on the left arm—Meredith felt the excruciating pain of exclusion all over again. In her black dress, she stood out like a raven in a cornfield.

If Troy tried to shoo her away like a scarecrow, she'd peck his eyes out. He stood on the opposite side of the crowd in his expedition jacket radiating unbearable smugness. He was chatting with Elizabeth Weir, who had bold red triangles on her jacket and the US flag on her shoulder versus Troy's Union Jack. Too bad there weren't more Canadians.

Glancing to the side, Troy's eyes happened upon Meredith's. He faltered mid-word. For a second, regret and longing filled his eyes, along with rising hope.

Did he actually think she'd dressed up to come and see him off? Not wanting to leave him with any confusion, Meredith flattened her lips and glared, trying to channel Drew Barrymore from _Firestarter. _ The AC overhead kicked in, blasting her with cold air and quickly dispelling her power fantasy of setting him on fire.

The early good times in their relationship were so outweighed by the monumental wrongs he'd done her that she had no nostalgia for it or him. They'd both been self-centered creatures, but unlike Troy, Meredith had always tried to be honest about it. There were also some lines that she would not cross.

Not so Troy. In his world, he always had to come first, no matter who was in his way or what he had to do to get there, no matter what got broken or who got hurt.

Meredith would never be content to play second fiddle to Troy's scene-stealing. She would not graciously concede the race. There was no hope for him to be found in her eyes, only scalding ashes and a bared blade.

Troy glanced away and fiddled with his glasses, tucking his flash of vulnerability away. When he looked back at her, his eyes were opaque. His forced his mouth into a half-smirk and tapped his Atlantis Expedition patch, arching one brow pointedly before turning his back on her and returning to his conversation with Dr. Weir.

Meredith had to focus on her breathing to stop from doing something foolish. Marching over to confront Troy right now would not help. She wouldn't be leaving with the expedition today and she couldn't forgive him for the past.

However, maybe she did need to try and forgive herself for trusting him. Maybe it was time to focus on the good things gained by so many instead of what she'd personally lost on Manudia. Holding on to the pain wasn't helping. The only one suffering was herself. Everyone had moved on but Meredith. She didn't know if she could ever completely move on, but she owed it to herself to at least try to find some peace. Maybe her upcoming visit to Manudia would somehow help with that.

Meredith didn't want to think about sad and upsetting things anymore. Right now she needed to be strong. She wasn't so great with emotions, especially her own, but she'd never had a problem with talking. Turning to the nearest scientist, she started dispensing advice and goodbyes.

Within a few minutes this had somehow morphed into an impromptu speech to the entire science department that left several scientists surprisingly weepy, even a few who liked to call her the Queen B—the dog, not the insect—behind her back. Meredith finished to thunderous applause and even a few whistles.

Ego appeased and distracted from her earlier thoughts, Meredith thought she'd get through the rest of the goodbyes without too much fuss until Miko stepped out of the crowd. Miko had her hair tied back in a severe ponytail and wore her sturdiest glasses. She looked solemn and pale.

Striding forward without any of her usual timidity in large crowds, Miko reached out the second she got close enough and engulfed Meredith in a hug.

After a moment of shock, Meredith hugged her friend back with more fierceness than she'd intended. The hug made her sinuses sting and her chest ache, but she rallied before tears could fall and ruin her mascara and reputation. "Saying _sayonara _makes it sound like we won't meet again and I refuse to believe that, Miko, so instead I'll just say thank you, good luck, and _ki o tsukete_."

Blinking rapidly, Miko smiled tremulously and stepped back, bowing her head. "_Arigatou gozaimasu_."

Worried about her faltering self-control, Meredith turned to shake the hand of a few more scientists she wasn't so emotionally attached to. She felt bad about it, but she even rushed through goodbyes with Zelenka and a few other people that she would personally miss seeing every day.

A bell rang, signaling fifteen minutes before everyone needed to be lined up in their places. Moving to the back of the room to get out of the way, Meredith crossed her arms stoically and felt bitter and alone.

"Mckay," a gravelly voice greeted, stepping up by her side.

Meredith frowned at seeing the big bald marine clad in a black t-shirt and olive green uniform pants instead of an expedition uniform. "Why aren't you suited up with your squad, Major McLean?"

"General O'Neill changed our orders."

At her look of surprise, McLean shrugged. "Someone has to be your security next month when you go off-world to Manudia to fix their defense screen, especially since most of the mission files about that world are redacted. No point in making you break in a new team. Besides, you finally learned my name. If I disappear now, you'll just forget it again."

Brow creasing, Meredith had an awful thought. "O'Neill didn't kick you guys off Atlantis just to look after me, did he? Maybe if we hurry, I can make him change his mind." Craning her neck, she looked around the crowded room for Jack's familiar cap of silver hair.

Waving her down, McLean rolled his eyes. "Mckay, don't worry about it. Seriously. We had a team meeting and requested the reassignment so we could stay behind with you. The General was more than happy to approve it and promised that SG-15 could go out with the second wave of reinforcements to Atlantis."

Jaw dropping, she checked his eyes to see if he was joking. "Why would you do that?"

McLean looked back calmly. "Because someone around here needs to have your back and we don't trust anyone else to do a better job than us."

"Oh, that's... oh. You _wanted..._? But, you don't even...," completely flattered and flustered, her hands fluttered in the air as she scrambled to figure out how to respond. "Well... thanks. I mean, thank you."

"You're welcome." The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he turned and looked back out at the organized chaos of the gateroom with his hands clasped behind his back. His company made her feel a little less bleak and alone.

Just when she'd stopped expecting it, John materialized out of the crowd. She'd known this conversation was coming but hadn't been able to seek him out for it, knowing it meant the end of their time together. Acid burned her insides. She didn't want to say goodbye. She didn't.

"Hey, Rome," John greeted her softly, the worry lines around his eyes sharper than knives. Without being asked, McLean melted away into the crowd.

"John." Her throat felt tight and choked with all of the things she suddenly realized she'd never gotten around to saying.

Stepping close, John slowly moved his eyes across her face, as if memorizing the angle of her nose and the diameter of each freckle. His breath feathered across her skin. Swallowing hard, he grimaced and looked down. "So long, Mckay."

Turning on his heel, John walked away.

Eyes going wide, Meredith lunged. Grabbing his arm, she jerked him back around hard. "Seriously, John? Are you kidding me?! I know that you can be emotionally constipated, but _that's _what I get for my big goodbye as you leave on what could be a one-way trip to another galaxy? _So long_? You can't even be bothered to call me Rome one last time? In case it's somehow slipped your notice, _I love you_."

Gulping in a breath of air, Meredith jerked her hands off his arm as if scalded. "I get that this is some awkward breakup so you can go sex up alien princesses in another galaxy, but if so, at least give me the respect of calling me _Doctor_." Turning on her heel, she snapped over her shoulder, "Good luck in Atlantis, Colonel Sheppard."

Meredith hadn't taken more than two steps before John grabbed her arm and spun her back around. "Damn it, Rome, there are no alien princesses! Why can't you just make things easy? Of course I love you. I've always loved you!"

Meeting his eyes, she felt the corner of her mouth tilt up. "I know."

Huffing a laugh, John shook his head and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. "I can't believe you just quoted _Star Wars_ at me. If anyone's Han Solo—one of the best pilots in the galaxy—it's me. How about some Anotole Broyard remixed: If Rome was a poem pressed into service as a city, you're an entire anthology with illustrations and soundtrack." He pressed a kiss to her neck and exhaled shakily.

Turning pink, Meredith couldn't help but clutch at John's warm back. "Literary compliments are nice, but you know I'm more of a math woman."

John lifted his head and pressed their foreheads together so he could stare into her eyes. "You're my pi, Meredith: constant, irrational, and infinite. My life has revolved around you since the day we met, leaving me changed and opening my eyes to new ways and worlds with each meeting, especially this last one." He huffed, bathing her face with warmth. "You make my life better. If I have any choice whatsoever in the matter, I'll take the road leading forever back to Rome. If I can, I will come back to you."

Closing her eyes, Meredith breathed in the scent of John's skin for perhaps the final time, unsteadily quoting, "'Rome is the city of echoes, the city of illusions, and the city of yearning.'"

Blindly lifting her mouth, she kissed the love of her life for all she was worth, which was an awful lot. John drank from her lips desperately, greedily, hiding nothing that could be read from touch alone. For a moment, their two lonely, wandering souls felt like they fused into one.

Overhead, the bell rang again, signaling the expedition's imminent departure. They pulled back, their lips clinging a fraction longer in silent protest at the forced parting. John's weapon-calloused fingers smoothed escaping wisps of hair back behind her ears and cupped her cheeks. "Till we meet again, Doctor Rodney Meredith Mckay, in this galaxy or the next, even if we end up two wandering spirits traveling across the cosmos to be reunited."

Pressing one last kiss on her forehead, John opened his hands and stepped back. "I'll never stop looking for you, even if it's only in my dreams."

Keeping her eyes dry only through an extreme act of will, Meredith met John's beloved green eyes and imprinted the picture of him in her memory. She refused to believe that it would be the last time she saw his face. "Till we meet again, Colonel John Sheppard, in this galaxy or the next." She meant her words as a promise.

Taking one more step back, eyes locked on hers, John abruptly pivoted on his heel and walked away.

Meredith didn't stop him this time.

John walked steadily, with shoulders straight and steps firm, taking his place at Colonel Marsha Sumner's side. Lt. Ford and the rest of the soldiers waiting to leave for Atlantis formed up behind their commander and her 2IC. The excited chatter in the room increased.

The civilians, including Miko and Zelenka, gathered up on the other side of the room. Dr. Weir and Troy stood at the front of the group like Barbie and Ken in their matching red and blue jackets (Meredith could acknowledge that she was being unfairly harsh to Elizabeth Weir, but she couldn't really bring herself to care).

Feeling unsteady, Meredith reminded herself that no matter what happened, she would take it like a Queen. Going upstairs to the observation deck, she folded her arms and looked out at the vast room as everyone on the floor formed into lines in front of the great ring of the Stargate.

Hearing a cough, she looked back to find that SG-15 had formed up around her like an honor guard. Kindall met her eyes and nodded. Dr. Dimples wasn't even smiling. Meredith tried to send them all a smile of thanks before turning back around to watch, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Daniel Jackson stood looking out the window next to Jack O'Neill. Daniel, perhaps out of everyone, most shared her bitter jealousy over those leaving without them. Their eyes met for a moment in silent commiseration.

"Dialing Atlantis," Sergeant Siler announced.

Everyone focused on the spinning chevrons. Meredith found herself holding her breath as the eighth symbol locked into place. For a beat, nothing happened.

Then with a whoosh, the shimmering blue of an active Stargate blazed into being like a whirlpool made of starlight. Explosive sighs of relief and a few cheers filled the room.

Meredith checked the readouts on the computer monitors. The draw on the local power grid had gone through the roof and several generators were red-lining, but they'd expected that and shut down everything non-critical.

General O'Neill leaned forward and spoke into the mike. "Wormhole stable. Sending through the probe."

Meredith hung over the shoulder of the tech scrolling through the readings from the other side of the Stargate. A minute passed. "The environmentals all looked green and I'm not reading anything suspicious," the tech reported, kindly not elbowing Meredith to force her to step back.

"Atlantis Expedition, you have a go. Good luck." Jack saluted the expedition filling the room below. All of the military personnel in the booth followed suit.

Colonel Sumner returned the salute with gravity before ordering the exodus to start. The first wave of the expedition began filing through the gate. The training for this day paid off. Everything went smoothly. All too soon the large room was almost empty.

Meredith stayed until the last crate disappeared through the ring. She watched as the wormhole to Atlantis, the City of the Ancients, blinked out of existence with her stuck here on the wrong side.

Eyes dry as the Sahara, she turned and walked away with measured steps. She still had work to do. There was always more work.

SG-15 padded along with her silently but had to leave her at the elevator to return to their own duties. Meredith understood. In fact, right now she'd prefer to be alone.

She took the elevator to the floor housing her lab. It was unnaturally quiet. Walking down the hall, she passed room after dark room full of empty tables and clean whiteboards.

Pressing her hand flat to the door frame outside her lab, Meredith bowed her head and counted her breaths. She'd lied. She didn't want to be alone, not again.

Always and again.

Nevertheless, loneliness and Meredith were well acquainted. It would be fine. She still had her work. She would be fine.

Pushing inside the room, Meredith flicked on the fluorescent yellow light. It came on with a buzz. All but one desk had been cleared. Soon new staff would come in to replace those who had gone on ahead. It wouldn't be quiet in here for long.

Quiet could be peaceful. Productive.

Mckay walked around her desk, pulled out her chair, and sat down in front of her computer. Someone had left a post-it note written in green pen on her keyboard. Mckay read it over and then set it to the side.

Allowing herself a single long, drawn-out sigh, she logged in and started analyzing the data streams sent back from Atlantis in the brief time the wormhole had been open. It wasn't much, but she would make the most of it. After all, Meredith was a genius.

Unnoticed, the post-it note fluttered to the floor:

_Rome is built on ruins and is quite breathtaking, what makes you think you can't be too?_

* * *

END OF SEASON 1

* * *

Author Note:

Thank you so much for reading and commenting! This isn't the happy ending many of you were probably hoping for or expecting considering what I usually write, but it is where the story went and I appreciate you going on the journey with me and Meredith and John. SGA is a fandom I have so much respect for and that I've derived so much enjoyment from over the years, so it was both exciting and intimidating to finally try and create something in that space. I first wrote this in the summer of 2017 for a fic challenge and then spent 2 years editing it off and on and feeling like it was never good enough. For most of that time, I assumed no one remembered or even cared about this story. I say that because every review where someone mentioned reading this story once upon a time and loving it even in its ugly and misshapen state made me tear up and feel warm and fuzzy. You new readers also filled my heart with joy.

Your words of recognition and engagement make a huge impact on me.

I meant to have this final chapter edited and up earlier today so I could keep to my goal of one chapter a day for 14 days, but I had church this morning, a meal to make for a sick neighbor (instant pot turkey breast and mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and toffee brownies made with Amish Friendship Bread Starter—yes, it's still alive!), a Pokemon battle and a baby chicken craft to supervise, and then I went on a nice walk with my hubby and kids.

It's also my 11th Wedding Anniversary today. Yay! We're sending the kids to grandma's tomorrow and going out together alone for breakfast and then a museum or garden walk. Really I'm just excited about the being alone with my man part. I can even kiss him without worrying about little people pushing in-between our legs or trying to climb me as a jungle gym. I have hopes that the red lingerie I bought months ago might finally make an appearance, but the sad thing is I hid it from hubby and can't remember where I put it. Doh! It's probably somewhere random like hidden behind my socks or with my spare purses. I should have figured that out last week probably. Whoops. Oh well. In the end, it's not what the packaging looks like, it's how you use it, right?

Returning to the story, there will be a season 2 of Rome where Mckay does manage to get to Atlantis and John and the secrets of her past are revealed, but I only have 5000 clumsy words of the first chapter written. I'm not sure when it will be finished or when I'll start posting, but look for that sometime in the summer or early fall hopefully. I can't just leave the two of them like this. I need my HEA and the angst-filled road to get there so it feels all the sweeter.

I love you guys and thank you again!

Best,

Indygodusk


End file.
